The Collection of Isabella Swan
by Unholy Spectacle
Summary: Aro Volturi isn't one to let an opportunity slip through his fingers. Especially not one as intriguing as Isabella Swan. AU from New Moon onward, Aro/Bella. Complete!
1. A Chance Encounter

A/N at end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and am making no money from this.

Despite their obvious beauty, nobody in town takes much notice of the two teenagers. They're backpackers, and this rest-stop town sees a lot of their type passing through during the non-winter months. These particular hikers are twins, male and female, both built slender, fit. They're bristling with state-of-the-art backpacking gear. No Craigslist cast-offs for these two. They look like the children in a family REI photo-shoot, down to their expensive hiking boots and designer wrap-around sunglasses. If they wear the sunglasses indoors as well, none of the locals thinks too much of it. People passing through those parts tended to be a little odd. One of the townspeople takes a glance and calls them trust-fund runaways, dismissively, and that's the end of that.

The twins couldn't care less what the locals think of them. They're both a little irritated that they're there at all. They wanted to fly out of Seattle, but first class was booked and bad things can happen when they're crowded into coach with the masses. And the private jet isn't available.

For these reasons, they've running through the forest along the coast, south to Portland. Jane's manicure is chipped beyond belief, and Alec keeps getting leaves in his hair. Despite the gear, neither of them are into the wilderness in any way, shape, or form.

All in all, they're not happy. The only thing going for this part of the world, they agree, is the cloud cover, which is good for their shared skin condition. And even that comes with a nearly constant drizzle.

"Isn't this the place where those animal drinkers live?" the girl asks her brother. They're in the tiny town's sporting-goods store, and they've been debating if the population is too small to have any of the locals go missing.

"Carlisle Cullen and his coven," he confirms. "You remember his association with the masters."

"Of course. Should we visit?"

Her brother shrugs. "Master Aro might want a report," he says, but his voice is reluctant. The animal drinks tend to be a little sanctimonious, if his memory serves. He wrinkles his forehead, trying to decide.

The two move to look at the portable water bags. They talk too softly and quickly for anyone to hear them.

"We could use this, Alec," his twin, Jane, says of the equipment, changing the subject. "Think of the possibilities." A small, cruel smile inches across her doll's face.

"It's better fresh," Alec murmurs. "And draining someone into the bag would prove … difficult. 'Oh, excuse me,' he imitates, 'would you mind not screaming? You're spilling the blood everywhere.'"

Jane giggles. "Not to mention the clean-up."

The twins smile at one another. They're in the middle of an aisle, and they pause their conversation as the store bell rings, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Whoever he is, his scent is delicious, riveting, and their eyes track his progress with eerie accuracy, despite the fact they cannot see him through the display wall. The sound of voices is clear to them. As a pair, they move to the end of the aisle where they can see the speakers. The delicious man is wearing a police uniform. The pair look at each other and sigh. Killing police is too conspicuous. The law looks after their own, and cases of disappearing officers are almost never closed. Still, now they are interested, so they listen.

"Hiya Chief, how's it going? Can I help you with something today? How's Bella?" This is the store owner's son talking. From the tone is his voice, he has a thing for this 'Bella.' His heart rate increases, awaiting the answer. Jane licks her lips unconsciously.

"Is your dad here, son?"

There's a pause. "Sure, Chief Swan." the boy says. One heartbeat retreats, to be replaced by another.

"Hello Hank," the delicious man—the _police officer—_says. He pauses awkwardly. "You see, I'm actually here for Bella." There's a cough. "She's not going to be able to come back to work. Not now, at any rate."

There's a short silence. The man behind the counter shakes his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Chief. You just tell Bella to get better and don't worry about it."

Chief Swan shifts uncomfortably. "I understand you can't hold her job, Hank. Thanks for your understanding. I know Bella will appreciate it, too." _When she gets better_, is the unspoken addition.

There's a rustle, and an older woman comes in. This must be the female half of the shop's ownership. "How is Bella doing, really, Charlie?" she asks. "We've been so worried since that family just up and left like that. I know she and that boy were close."

Charlie sighs. "She's … existing, to be honest, Karen. She really liked him." He shakes his head. "More than liked, I suppose. She won't say what happened, why they ended things."

"I heard Dr. Cullen got a sudden job in Los Angeles, and that's why they moved so quickly."

The twins freeze at the name 'Cullen.' They forget to be human, to fidget and breathe. They stand like statues, listening.

"Yeah, but it doesn't explain why his son dumped her the way he did. Now she's been miserable and won't say a word about why. Won't eat, just stares into space. Damn it, I just knew there was something wrong with that boy. He just seemed _off_, you know? I should have listened to my gut before he left her in the goddamned woods. Excuse my language."

"Edward always seemed so polite," the woman says. She shakes her head. The twins look at one another again. "I guess you just never can tell."

"That's for sure," the Chief agrees, and the conversation ends with the usual niceties.

The twins look at one another again. Jane is smiling. It's not a nice expression at all. "Edward Cullen," she murmurs. "First companion to Carlisle Cullen. Keeper of pets."

"The mind-reader," Alec says. He's smiling, too. Their run has served some purpose, after all. "We;ll need to call Master Aro."

"Yes," Jane agrees. "I think he'll be very interested."

**A/N:** This is my first Twilight fan-fiction story, so if I got any of the canon wrong (aside from the obviously AU plot-bent to the story), please let me know. I looked up Mr. Newrton's first name and came up with a blank on the Twilight Wiki. I had the urge to call him Hank, no idea if that's correct or not. Apologies if it's not.

If you followed me from the HP fandom and are wondering when I'll update my other current story, I'm not sure. I somehow developed a mini-obsession with the Volturi while I wasn't paying attention , and now I need to get it out of my system. I do intend to continue it, though.

Right now I am rating this story T, but this could go up. If it does, I will change it in the system and include a warning at the beginning of the new chapter.

Please review! :)


	2. A Discovery

It is night of the same day now. Much to Jane's irritation, the drizzle hasn't let up since they've arrived in Forks. This bothers her only as a matter of inconvenience, of course. Being dead, she can't catch a chill. Her smooth flaxen hair hasn't looked anything less than perfect in more than twelve hundred years, since their master, Aro, saved she and her brother from being burned at the stake.

No, it is just irritating. Despite the convenience of the cloud cover to their kind, Jane despises dreary weather. How the Cullens could stand this place was a mystery.

Jane frowns. On her perfect face, irritation only makes her look more lovely, like an impossibly flawless pre-teen model."We should get on with it, Alec," she says. "I want to go home."

Her brother nods, yet seems strangely reluctant. In the moonlight though through the trees, his face shines with a luminescence that is otherworldly.

Around them, the forest has gone unnaturally silent, as if the normal animal inhabitants knew to stay away.

Alec looks at the house, a thoughtful expression on his face. He says, "I wonder why he did it. It wasn't logical to leave her like this. She should have been dead or turned."

"When are people ever logical?"

"He's a vampire. He knew the law."

Jane shrugs. She didn't care; she gave up understanding human nature when the priests tied she and her brother to the platform and set them on fire.

"I never liked Edward Cullen," she says.

Alec makes a noise of agreement. "Moralistic. Smug."

They look over at the house again for a moment, thinking about the human inside. Bella is on her bed, they know. From what they could tell, she rarely left it since her vampire had left.

"She's weak," Jane says. "Can we get on with it?"

Alec hesitates again. He doesn't know why; it is quite unlike him. And it hardly mattered, anyway. It isn't as if there were was any room for them to hesitate in this case. However accidental their discovery of Isabella Swan had been, their orders were clear: Kill the girl and contain the mess. Search her things and the Cullen residence for evidence to bring to Master Aro, to use as he saw fit at a later date.

Alec huffs out an amused breath. What is he thinking? He is being ridiculous. It is just another human inside. Pathetic. Temporary. Mortal. No different than any other.

He smiles at his sister, reassured by his thoughts. "Look on the bright side," he says. "We may not be able to have the father, but at least we can taste her."

Jane smiles fondly at her brother. "You're always able to cheer me up."

Alec smiles back before he refocuses on the house beyond the trees.

"Her father has left," he says unnecessarily. "She's alone."

Jane closes her eyes. "No heartbeats. No scent. No humans."

They wait silently for a moment.

"Why are we even bothering with our gifts?" Alec asks. "Now that she's alone, we could just go in."

Jane shrugs. "For fun?"

The twins smile at one another. As one. they step forward out of the trees "Shall I begin?" Alec asks politely. Now he's all business.

Jane looks at the house. Isabella's heartbeat is slow and steady. They would know when the human was affected by what they were going to do. "Please," she says.

Alec concentrates. Jane waits. It's a collaboration they've been doing for over a thousand years. But this time, something is different. Bella's heartbeat remains steady.

After another long minute, the small, blonde vampire knows something is wrong. Her brother's eyes are closed, and his brow is furrowed in pained confusion.

"That's odd," he says. "It doesn't … it's not working." His blood-red eyes snap open.

Jane regards him in silence, then concentrates, glaring at the house.

Nothing. Once again, the heart inside pumps its steady, slow, infuriating rhythm. Unaffected.

There is a long, pregnant silence.

"Well, that's new," Alec says, very quietly.

Beside him, his sister's face is grim. She's never going to get out of this god-forsaken town. "Indeed."

JAJAJAJA

I love the twins. They're like cute, evil little dolls. :)

Thanks to all of you to all who are following this story. A lot of you also favorited it, so that's kind of cool to see. It's nice to know people are enjoying it so far. It's early in the story yet and the main characters (or at least one of them) is up next.

Please do review, it does make a difference. :)


	3. A Human Life

**Volterra. Italy**

Adrianna hurries down the hallways of the ancient foress toward her first day of work. Her thick, lustrous blonde hair has been elegantly coiffed into a twist, and her new high heels click rhythmically against the stone flooring of the dim, drafty corridors. She walks as confidently as possible to cover what she feels inside, a strange, growing uncertainty. It's not a familiar feeling for her.

At the junction of two passageways, she has to stop and consider her path. Everything here looks the same, with the exception of the artwork, and there are only very tiny windows throughout to provide natural lighting.. This was for practical reasons; after all, the structure was built for defense. Adrianna doesn't care. She's used to being outdoors, with fresh air and lots of natural sunlight, and she's fairly sure she doesn't like the change.

But it's too late for regrets now; she's decided. Finally, Adrianna finds her new desk. Tugging down her pencil skirt, sits down to begin her new position as receptionist for the Volturi. Quileute

She must admit, if only privately to herself, that she is slightly nervous. Exhilarated, in a fashion—for who wouldn't be, with such an opportunity, such a _gift _handed to them—but also a litle frightened. She's been so worried, in fact, that she hasn't been able to eat properly in two days, not since Heidi approached her, introduced her to the masters, and offered her the job.

Heidi. She secretly hates the beautiful vampire, who she has since found out is their recruiter. Heidi, who is somehow even more beautiful and knows it. Who looks at her as if she's better, just because she was chosen. Heidi, who acts as if she weren't just a pretty girl once, like herself once.

Yes, it's only been two days, but Adrianna already hates Heidi. She promises to herself that one day, when they make her a vampire, too, she will tell Heidi just exactly what she thinks of her.

Adrianna shakes off that thought and places it in the back of her mind. For now, she's new and needs to prove herself. And she will—she just wishes her nerves would settle. Why she's on edge, she can't precisely say. There's no down side that she can see. They told her that their life wasn't for everyone, and if it didn't work out, that she wouldn't need to worry. There was some mention of a non-disclosure agreement and lawsuits. As if that would matter. The proceeds from the book alone … she dismisses the thought, her secret back-up plan that she must never, ever mention. Anyway, that's a worst case plan, and she's in the best-case situation.

For now.

She twists anxiously in her new desk chair, thinking. Worries are foolish. She wants this, and who wouldn't want eternal life? It's unbelievavle, to never grow old. She sure that all of them are rich. No, whatever price she has to pay is worth it, and pay it she will. No matter what.

Besides, even aside from all of that … she would do almost anything to be close to _him_.

Adrianna resolutely shoves that thought from her mind. No one must know about that. She mustn't even think of it. She reminds herself to focus. Everyone is like this, on their first day of a new position, and this job could be the most important of her life. It is no wonder that the usual first-day jitters are magnified.

And she believes that she will succeed. She's never failed before, not really. She is young, barely twenty, and undeniably gorgeous, the kind of woman that causes men to walk into light poles and get into traffic accidents. She's willowy and looks like the professional skier that she was, before her knee injury landed her on semi-permanent holiday, wandering around Italy in search of a plan.

In the end, the plan found her. And now, she is determined that she will be the most efficient, very best human that the Volturi—that _he_—has ever had.

The computer at the desk is a later model, which is a relief. However, the files on it are a mess. The hard drive is is full of unlabeled, and unorganized documents and spreadsheets, as if the previous administrator dropped every project right in the middle. It's troubling, this level of inefficiency. Do the masters not supervise the work of their staff? Is no one held accountable for poor organization?

Adrianna shrugs off her thoughts and gets to work cleaning things up. An hour later, she looks around, taking in the utter quiet, so unlike a normal office building. Vampires have walked past, and all of them seem to stare at her, but there have been no non-Volturi or human visitors. In that dismissive way she has, Heidi told her that the next day, Tuesday was when most of the visitors came to see the masters. She also mentioned something about tour groups coming through, but Adrianna didn't get the details. She just hopes she's not expected to clean up after them.

Abruptly and shockingly, someone appears, and Adrianna jumps, almost shrieking in surprise. Her pulse hammers against her throat.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." It's a vampire, one of the guard, and his expression belies his works. He did, and he's happy about it.

"It's fine," Adrianna says, forcing a smile. "You just startled me, is all."

He grins even more broadly, showing white, perfect teeth. With a dull thud, he drops an enormous pile of papers on her desk. He smiles again, making eye contact. He's georgrous, like all of them, and charismatic. Adrianna, who was one propositioned by a Prime Minister, somehow can't help herself. She blushes.

There's just something about them. Adrianna really hopes that she gets used to it soon, because if she keeps getting flustered like this, she can't do good work and be rewarded by becoming one of them. And that is what she wants, most of all. To be chosen.

"The masters want you in the study," the vampire says suggestively, and now she can feel her cheeks heating up even more. Damn. Why does it have to be so obvious, how they disconcert her so?

"Thank you Felix," Adrianna says, and much to her relief, her voice is cool. She's proud of herself for remembering his name. She needs to remain in control. In jobs like this, it's all about the relationships, or so she's been told, and although she wants to be on friendly terms with everyone, she has her eye on one vampire in particular.

And she doesn't see any reason why she shouldn't have him. She smiles secretly.

Felix eyes her knowingly. "Heidi said you know your way now," he says, and Adrianna nods. The last thing she wants is to wander through these empty, ancient halls with Felix. The very thought makes her shudder.

Seeing he has disappeared, she rises. Her legs feel wobbly, and teeters on her heels. Now that she's going to see the three brothers again, her mind is buzzing, overfull with chaotic thoughts and ideas.

The way he held her hand for a minute too long. The secret smile that played on his lips as he asked her about her life, almost as if he knew the amswers already.

The way he leaned in, like he was smelling her perfume.

Adrianna is lost in thoughts, distracted, and of course she takes a wrong turn, despite having been shown around carefully. And now that she is finally finding her way, she realizes that she's forgotten the old-fashioned, hard-backed notebook and fountain pen that they've given her. Heidi told her she must carry with her at all times.

Oh well, what does Heidi know? Adrianna's heels click frantically down the hallways as she tries to find her way. They probably won't even ask her to take notes, she tells herself. And, who knows, maybe _he_ wants to see her for something else entirely. A small smile forms on her lips at the thought.

And there is the door. Adrianna closes her eyes and catches her breath. Briefly, she considers going back to the desk to retrieve the pad and pen, and again rejects the idea. The door before her is huge, and from behind it she can hear voices. At first, Adrianna can't understand, but gradually she can make out distinct words. She stands there, frozen. She's late, but she cannot move. From what she can tell, they're talking about a woman, and _he_ is speaking. Aro.

She feels a clench of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. Who is it, that they are arguing about? Who is so important? Why does he sound so passionate? Does he have a girlfriend? She has to know what he's saying. Needs to know. As quietly as she can, Adrianna inches closer to the carved, gilded wood.

Thankfully, they're speaking in Italian. The blonde master, Caius is speaking. "Even you aren't above the law, Aro." Adrianna almost flinches away at the harshness of his tone.

"Patience, brother, I never suggested that I was." It's _him_ speaking. His voice is so soothing. Adrianna can hardly breathe. She loves the way he sounds. "A little time, that is all, and given certain controls."

"And since when do we consider circumstances?" Caius again.

"I can hardly fail to consider them. I have no choice, if you hadn't forgotten." Adrianna wonders why he sounds so bitter suddenly.

"As if you would let us." This must be Marcus, but he sounds amused. Adrianna remembers that he seemed indifferent when she met when them before, indifferent. At least he hadn't been glaring at her, like Caius.

"She could have told half the human town by now. Gone on one of those revolting talk shows."

Adrianna recoils, confused. Do they think she has told someone something? No. They must be talking about another human woman. She leans in again.

Marcus speaks again, "She would have been institutionalized, if she had. Modern humans do not believe in these superstitions."

"They don't lock people up the way they used to," Caius says, and he actually sounds regretuful about this, somehow. "How do you know she has not told?" he demands.

_His_ voice—Aro's voice —is soothing again. "Alec and Jane have been collecting information, and are watching her as we speak. Also, it seems she has contact with the Quileutes."

There's a pause. "The shifters? It just keeps getting better. By all means, sign her up!"

"This is hardly a cause for sarcasm, brother. Do calm yourself. They hardly affect us here."

"And Carlisle?"

"Can fight his own battles. I will keep their treaty in mind, certainly."

"As you violate it."

"Certainly, I should conduct my affairs with the tribe of Forks in mind. Caius. There are limits, after all."

"Perhaps not, but I see no need for leniency either."

Aro makes a sad _tsk_ing sound. "I am not proposing leniency, only a delay."

"It's the same thing, Aro! She knows. That is the issue."

Adrianna pressed herself against the door, fascinated. Who was this woman? And what did she know that had Caius so upset?

_She must know they're vampires. Like me. _The sudden thought chilled her. They'd made it seem like no big deal when she was hired. It was, though. Of course it was. Why had they been so casual? Adrianna could feel her heart begin to race at the thought. What else had she missed? A feeling of dread filled her.

Aro's voice remained unperturbed. "You are being short sighted again, Caius. With these kinds of girfts, mental stability is paramount. And if she is as I suspect—"

Caius speaks again. "You have only coincidence."

"Do you have so little faith in the twin's powers, then, brother?" Aro's tone is still mild, but for once, Caius has nothing to say. Aro speaks again. "If it would make you feel better, I can bring in Eleazar."

There's a silence. Marcus speaks. "If she is immune to your powers, I will be satisfied."

Adrianna closes her eyes in confusion, wondering what powers Aro has. She doesn't remember Heidi saying anything to her about this in the briefing. It seems there is a lot they haven't mentioned about their kind. She needs to learn everything. Just in case.

"And you, brother?"

Another short silence, then a sigh. "Agreed. If she can resist you, I have no argument."

"I will confirm it, of course." Aro sounds almost gleeful. "But just imagine, together with Renata ..." He trails off.

Abruptly the door opens, and Adrianna is pushed back. She stumbles, tripping over her high heels. She is is stopped from falling only by an iron grip on her wrist. Before she knows what's happened, she's inside the room and standing before the masters. It's Aro who is holding her. The other brothers are seated. Marcus looks bored. Caius looks contemptuous.

"I didn't want to interrupt," she begins, dazed. Hopefully that excuse will work. God, his hand is so cold, but she doesn't want him to let go. She wants to feel that cold everywhere.

Aro smiles slowly. He releases her, and abruptly, it's as if nothing happened at all. He says, "Adrianna, how delightful to see you! Looking as lovely as ever. And you've been here for a while now already, I see. How _rude_ of us to keep you waiting outside the door in such a manner, listening to our dull business."

His smile has an edge to it, and Adrianna cringes. He knows that's she's been listening. That she was eavesdropping.

Behind his back, Caius rolls his eyes. "You knew very well she was there, Aro. She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago." He glares at her pointedly. "And with a pen, which she does not have. Besides," he says, his voice is dismissive, "it isn't as if we can't smell her human stink from the other side of the building. Really, must we be so overly dramatic about everything?"

Aro shakes his head at Caius. The sparkle in his eyes invites Adrianna in on the joke. "Oh Caius, What is life without our little passions?"

Caius sighs. "As usual, what excites you just makes me weary, Aro. Let's finish for the day."

Aro shrugs. His long, glossy hair moves about his shoulders, catching Adrianna's dazed eyes. She wishes she understood what was happening. "Very well, if you insist."

"I do."

Aro shakes his head. "Adrianna, you will have to excuse my brother's manners. He's not fond of humans, even ones as lovely as yourself." He smiles down at her thoughtfully. "And yet, Caius does have a point. One of his fingers comes and traces the ridge of her jaw with his index finger, slowly, and Adrianna can't help but let her eyes slide closed. It's like a feather's carees, his touch. She's riveted, held exactly in place by that one precise finger.

"Oh Adrianna," he sighs, as if in genuine dismay. Adrianna opens her eyes, and they're filled with moisture She hates that she's disappointed him. To her mortification, a single tear slips down her cheek. It's caught instantly by the side of Aro's bloodless thumb. With obscene deliberation, holding her eyes, he licks it from his white digit with an long, crimson tongue.

Marcus speaks. Cutting into his brother's display. "We really cannot maintain good help can we?" He sounds amused.

Caius snorts. "Perhaps we should reevaluate our training program."

Adrianna blinks in her stupor. She knows she has to say something, has to defend herself. "It's only my first day—"

With infinitely gentler force, a long, cold finger presses against her lips. "Shh, my dear … shhh … don't worry. Never worry." His voice is so soothing. She subsides. Aro holds her eyes, then releases them, turning away. "Now run along with Felix, he knows just what to do. Don't spend another moment thinking about it."

Adrianna relaxes, blinking. She's relieved beyond measure to be given another chance to pleasing her new masters. She promises herself that she'll never disappoint them again. Especially _him_.

On her way out the door, she glances back, but Aro has already turned away.

It's the last thing she sees.

AAAAAAAA

A/N:

Fanfiction is so much fun sometimes. I guess the moral of the story here is, don't listen in on your vampire employers. Or be late, Or plan to write a tell-all book about them. Or maybe don't work for beings who eat people. One of those.

This was a fairly long chapter, but I cut it by scene, not word length (usually, not always). Hopefully my OC pre-Gianna person was okay. If she wasn't well … she won't be bothering us again.

Hopefully, everyone caught that the brothers were talking about Bella, and saw something of what Aro has planned.

Thank you to those who has reviewed and added this story to their alerts. I do appreciate it. I haven't been good at review responses (ever, really), but please know I read them greedily. :)


	4. A Slow Thaw

A/N at end.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight, and am not making money from this.

**BBBB**

**Forks, Washington**

I sit beside my bedroom window and stare blankly out into space. It's a good day, because it's a Saturday and I got out of bed. Last night, I even shaved my legs.

I don't have to worry about doing that at night any more. If I cut myself, it's okay.

_**Stop.**_

Outside, I can see that winter is slowly melting into spring. There's a fine, light drizzle in the air, and behind the mist the forest is turning lush, and green. It teems with life and vibrancy. Unlike me.

I'm young; I should have energy to spare, but my inner landscape more resembles the winter forest than the spring. Inside me, the animals are hiding; ice and snow crunch underfoot. I have no new life. I spend most of my energy concentrating on just not thinking. It's necessary. If I loosen my grip on my mind, even for a moment, I think again, and the psychic pain of those thoughts is enough to cripple me even more than I am right now.

When I think, I can feel the fine, razor-edge of madness. It frightens me, and it calls for me.

But my weakness is to be expected. It will pass. I'm just a human. My mind is like a sieve. I will forget, soon enough …

_**No. Stop it.**_

I stop thinking of those words he said to me and force my mind to school matters. I should do some reading for U.S. History. I have an essay due in two days. And I should call my friends. I won't, of course. But any of those thoughts are better than the ones that came before it.

Thinking of the way Angela looks so disappointed and confused that I won't talk to her is better. The way that Jessica is still trying to get me to give up some gossip fodder about why—

_**No, no, quit that.**_

-about the _incident_, is better, thinking about the fact that it's late afternoon and I'm not dressed, thinking about how I should really start cooking again because Charlie has had pizza for almost two weeks running, all of these things are by far better, than any of the thoughts that I could be having.

I sigh into the negative space of my room. My control isn't perfect. The grip I have on my own mind incomplete. Perhaps if I were one of _them_—but no. No.

_**Stop.**_

And that is an example. If I am left to wander, each and every pathway in my brain leads inexorably to me the forest again. If it doesn't lead there, it leads to the meadow, which in turn leads me straight back to the forest. And in the forest, I am lost, because that is where, where, with just a few words, someone I loved took away both his presence and my eternity. Like he were some kind of god. Like I placed him up on an altar and made him—

_**Quit it.**_

Between my control of my thoughts and my failure to control them, I am paralyzed. One person only has so much energy, and all of mine is spent in mental battle.

Unfortunately, this doesn't leave much room for living, or moving on. Or doing any of those things that humans supposedly do that vampires never will.

_**But I must stop thinking of that.**_

Life intrudes on my endless internal monologue. "Bella, I'm leaving. There was an accident off the highway, some tanker truck went over a bridge and the driver's missing. I'll be back when I can, but it looks to take a while."

I have to clear my throat and try twice before I can raise my voice enough so Charlie will hear me. "Okay, Dad." I leave it at that. There's no need to tell him where I'll be; he knows that I'll be here.

I'm nearly always here.

I wonder if Alice and Rosalie know how weak I am, if they've always known they would end up leaving. I wonder if they think of me at all. If this has happened before, with other human girls.

I thought I knew the answers to these questions once. Alice was my best friend, and she would look out for me. I would have done anything for her. I was her first true human friend.

_**Stop it.**_

But I assumed I knew lots of things. I thought I knew Edward would love me for the rest of my life, and the only debate was how long that life would be. I thought it was only a matter of time before he folded, until I became a vampire and joined the Cullen family officially. I thought I would be a really great vampire. Strong. Attractive. And yes, at last, finally, graceful.

But most importantly, most centrally, most inexorably, with Edward Cullen for all of eternity.

_**Please. Just stop.**_

I look around my room, and for the first time, I see how childish it is, I am. How foolish, this room filled with mementoes of a girl who thought she understood things. Each piece of paper, each decorative touch speaks to a level of naiveté that is genuinely disturbing. How foolish I must have looked to him. But that never occurred to me. I assumed that I knew how he saw things. I was wrong.

I made a lot of assumptions, ones that were based on trust. I trusted in the depth and strength of his love, the positivity of his regard. Trusted myself to know if he was lying to me. I trusted in him not to steal from me.

Steal my love. Steal my trust. Steal my eternity.

I smile bitterly and shake my head. Burning tears prick my eyes and do not fall. Foolish, so foolish. Is it really theft for someone to take something that was never yours? Thinking you own something isn't the same as actual possession. As for trust, allowing someone to believe in a conclusion isn't the same as an actual agreement. And to believe that you have control over the path of your life is not the same as actually having it.

_**You really have to stop now.**_

I don't trust anyone now. Least of all myself.

_**STOP.**_

This time, I listen, but it hardly matters. This day is rapidly going downhill, and I haven't moved at all. Outside, the mist has burned away, but inside my brain, it remains. I close my eyes and press my forehead against my knees. I desperately need to stop thinking. If I start to think about everything I was told, I honestly might go insane.

Outside, I hear the crunch of car tires, but the sound barely penetrates. A car engine dies. I am still lost in my thoughts.

Carlisle and Esme said I was like a daughter to them. Emmettt told me I was like a sister.

I should have noted the qualifiers, but I didn't.

_**What is wrong with you? Stop it.**_

"God, I wish I could." I'm surprised to hear the slight, quiet moan my voice makes. I didn't realize I had said that out loud.

There's a sharp, short rapping on the door downstairs. One, two, three. It's an authoritative sound, the knock of a landlord or an expected visitor. Despite the car sounds, it's a complete surprose. My eyes fly to my closed bedroom door in alarm and confusion. I wasn't expecting anyone. Charlie would have told me if he were having a package delivered.

The knock is followed by complete quiet. No sounds of shuffling feet, or voices. No coughing or jingling of keys. Just silence, as if the sound never happened.

I can feel myself shrinking again, folding in on myself in the face of this unexpected challenge. More than anything, I don't want to answer. But suppose it is one of our neighbors, or it really is a delivery that Charlie just forgot to mention?

I don't have to go, I tell myself. I could always say I was in the shower. Or that I was asleep.

I know the look I would see on Charlie's face, though, if I said any of those things. That awful half-disappointed, half-worried expression that he wears so often lately. When he first comes home, I see the real him, for a moment, the work-cheerful or tired expression. And then he sees me, and the other face settles in on him, slowly, as he watches me not eat and not talk to him.

No, it won't work. I'm a terrible liar and he would know how far I have fallen.

I have to go downstairs.

As if they're keyed to my decision precisely, the knocking sounds again, in exactlythe same pattern. One, Two, Three. Then quiet. The back of my neck prickles, and suddenly I have the firm and improbable sense that, whoever it is, they know I am here, cowering in my room, hoping that they don't hear me. Hoping that they will go away.

Strangely, there in that silence, I find myself becoming irritated. The feeling grows. It captures my attention. When did it happen, that I became so weak? Did he make me weak? Did they? When did I give them that power. I was never a coward before I met Ed … him. Them.

Suddenly, abruptly, and improbably, I can see: it wasn't my fault. Yes, I allowed them to hurt me, but I wasn't o blame. Not for being human, not for trusting. No, the blame was theirs. Mostly his, but theirs as well.

They hurt me. I didn't hurt myself. But I was hurting myself now.

And with that clarity, I look at myself, for the first time in a while, at my hiding and cowering. And I find what is left of my backbone.

I suddenly forget that I am depressed, that I have no energy, that I am perpetually caught in the circular path of my mind. I forget, too, that I am still in my bunny-themed pajama pants and tank top. Amd that my hairs is in the same messy ponytail that I put it in this morning after conceding to my third straight bout of insomnia. I am filled, all at once, with a pure, burning rage that, after everything I had lived through, t_his_ is what is left of me.

It is unfair. More, I feel, it is unjust.

The anger feels so good, like water to a burning thirst. A lifeline. It propels me off my seat, across the hall, down the stairs, and to the first door, all before I even know what is happening. I breathe it in, sharply, feeling it fill me. And, with a wide, abrupt motion, a glare, and a sense of deep relief, I shove open the door.

The fresh air is shocking. I feel goosebumps on my arms raising in the chill caused by the drizzle and the fading light of the sun. I can hear the slight sound of the wind in the trees.

But none of this sensory input is what captures my attention. How could it?

Because for the first time since Edward Masen Cullen left me in the forest with his sharp, dismissive words, I find myself standing face to face with a vampire.

And he has red eyes.

BBBB

**A/N: **Thank you to the people who reviewed, and those who followed/favorited. I do appreciate all of thise. :) And please do review, it's great to know people are out somewhere there reading. :)

From now on, the story will probably be from Bella's POV, unless an idea grabs me and I can't resist. Also, I may have gotten the seasons wrong on Bella's depression. If I have, please just fold it into the AU-ness of the story.


	5. An Agreement

"Fuck my life."

I don't realize I said it out loud until I hear my voice, breathy with shock, pass my lips. It sounds more like a prayer than a curse. A dying one, perhaps. I'm rooted to the spot, frozen there, with one arm on the door, staring at a man-drinking vampire. In my bunny pajamas. Alone. Not in public. Did I mention, alone?

He's tall. He has strong features and long, gleaming black hair. He's attractive; of course he is. They all are. I feel sick.

Am I the only girl on Earth to whom this shit consistently happens?

To make matters worse, this man is clearly not normal, even for a vampire. He's grinning at me in this delighted, almost manic way that makes me feel like I've missed out on the joke completely.

Then again, considering that it's likely on me, that's probably just as well.

Behind the gleeful vampire, I can hear crickets begin to thrum in the settling shadows of late afternoon. I am grateful that our neighbors aren't close by, that they won't investigate this strange man standing on my doorstep, check is everything is okay. It's much better this way; I don't want anyone to get drained because of me.

I know there's nothing at all I can do now. I am human and slow. I remember those brutal lessons from the ballet studio all too well. No matter where I run to, this vampire will catch me. The only thing that fleeing will accomplish is some cheap horror-movie dramatics. Cue screaming girl, tripping through forest. Insert graceful, deadly predator.

There are no Cullens to save me this time. Their protection is gone.

My heartbeat races and grows erratic. I can feel it, and I know he can hear it. I blink in slow motion, like I've been drugged, waiting for him to do it. For the lunge that will end me. I am mute and still.

The moment stretches. Again. His grin only widens.

And then there's a long moment of silence between us, in which I gradually I realize that it's been a while, and I am not dead.

I blink again at normal speed. He tilts his head, observing me. I take a deep, gasping breath, another. Maybe, just maybe he's not here to murder me?

_Come on Bella, get it together. It's not like you haven't met one of them before. SAY something._

"My, my," the vampire says. His voice is low and smooth and warm. Lovely, Of course. "The standards for receiving visitprs have certainly changed since I was young, haven't they?"

I stare at him, disbelieving. Did he seriously just insult me? It's just too much. "Do you always insult your food before you eat it?"

The vampire doesn't answer immediately, but his smile vanishes. His eyes slide across my body, down to my pajama bottoms and pink fuzzy socks and back up, lingering ever so slightly on my chest. Slowly, he says, "Not always."

I feel my face flaming. "I suppose I should consider myself special."

"Oh, my dear, I think I can say with near-certainty that you're already special. May I come in?" He leans in, just a little, invading my personal space. He smells like the forest mixed with lavender and peppermint. It's a seductive smell, but of course it is.

No, thank you. He can just eat me on the doorstep. "I make it a policy not to invite in strangers. You understand. Safety first."

His eyes widen almost comically. They're large in his face, and, despite the red coloring, expressive. He uses them like an veteran actor. "How rude of me, my dear," he says, with mocking politeness. "Please forgive my lack of manners. I am a friend of Carlisle's. And you can only be Isaballa Swan."

I try not to wince, and fail. Oh, how that name still hurts. I always thought Carlisle was so compassionate. "You must not have heard that they moved away."

"Actually, that's why I'm here," he says. "Do you mind if I come in? I wouldn't want any passers-by to become curious." He makes it sound both casual, and like the bloodiest of threats.

This vampire is frighteningly different from the Cullens, somehow, riveting and separate in a manner aside from the obvious of eye color. I wonder why this is. I hesitate.

"You know what I am," he says cheerfully. "I don't need to enter your home to murder you, my dear."

I nod numbly, and I'm an idiot, because I have to ask the question. "Are you here to eat me?" He might know Carlisle, but he does have red eyes.

"I assure you, I would have done it already."

I back away from the door, watching as he enters. He's wearing an obviously expensive suit underneath his overcoat. It fits him perfectly. Of course it does.

"Are all of you so well dressed?" I blurt, and I can feel my face flame. I hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Never mind."  
The vampire looks at me almost fondly, and I realize: I still don't know his name. "What a curious human you are," he says.

I close the door and follow him inside. I am some kind of special idiot, I know, letting him in like this. "So I've been told," I mutter. "But you'll excuse me if I don't offer you anything to drink."

At my words, my visitor throws his head back, laughing, and claps his hands together delightedly. He's like a gleeful child. He laughs with his whole being, and I can't help but stare. It's so different than Edward, who was always so reserved, so controlled and pained. I can't help but blink at his enthusiasm.

"I begin to see what the Cullens saw in you, my dear. Ypu're quite amusing."

He sits on the sofa while I perch on the edhe of Charlie's huge TV chair. He couldn't look more out of place in my father's s living room.

I "You look familiar, somehow." I say. And he does, but I don't know why. Why do I have this feeling I've seen him before somewhere? He reminds me of something I feel like I should remember.

"Do I? Perhaps I have one of those faces."

"Maybe," I say doubtfully. "You didn't tell me your name."

The vampire thinks for a moment. "Call me … Henry."

I blink at him. He looks a lot more like a Vlad to me. I decide not to share that observation.

"Lovely to make your acquaintance, Isabella," he says.

"How did you hear about me?" I asked. "It's a little strange that this is where you would come, if you don't mind my saying."

"I followed your scent. It's quite distinctive. And it was all over their house, particularly the young Edward's room."

"You knew my name already, though." No one in town calls me Isabella. He got that somewhere else, I know.

His grin widens. "You figured out what they were on your own, didn't you?" He looks at me thoughtfully. "You're too curious for your own good, my dear. You'd be far better off not knowing so much."

At his words, I shudder and instinctively rub my wrist where James' bite scar remains. I wonder what my life would have been like, if I had never tried to solve Edward's mystery. Better, undoubtedly. Simpler.

Henry's eyes track the movement of my hand. Seeing the scar, he becomes very still.

"I did figure it out," I say. "A while ago, before they left. They didn't tell me." I don't want to talk about that. Ever again, if I can help it. "So why are you in Forks?" I ask.

"I'm a collector." His grin returns, as if he's enjoying one hell of a private joke.

I frown. There's not even one antique store here. He must be travelling to Port Angeles, or Seattle. "You have business in Forks?" I ask doubtfully. "What do you collect?"

"Rare pieces." His eyes watch me carefully.

I nod slowly. "Well, I'm sorry I can't help you," I say. "With Carlisle, I mean. But I have no idea where they went to."

There's a short pause. "I see. They left you behind." His voice is gentle.

"I don't want to talk about that." I swallow and stare at the floor. "I won't."

Henry looks thoughtful. Slowly, he asks, "May I ask you a favor, Isabella?"

The way he says my name this time, enunciating each syllable, has a strange emphasis to it that I've never heard before. It's foreign and sensual. I look up to meet his eyes.

Henry smiles. "Would you be willing to accompany me?" He clarifies, "To look at items. As you're local, it might help to have you with me. Sometimes people in smaller areas don't trust foreigners." He shrugs.

I frown, considering this.

"I would reimburse you for your time, of course," he adds.

I should say no. I need to say no. But I can't seem to let the words pass my lips. I know it's pathetic, but he knows the Cullens, at least Carlisle, and right now he feels like a connection to them. I just can't bring myself to cut that cord.

Also, I could use the money. The truck needs new parts, and I lost my job at the store.

Henry smiles at me charmingly, waiting for my reply. I find myself nodding.

"Let us shake on it, my dear," he says, and then my hand is in his, and Henry is grasping it firmly. He's cold, of course, but his grip is strong and reassuring. Slowly, he turns my palm down and leans over the back of my hand.

When he looks up again, his gaze is intent. There's no trace of levity in his bloody red eyes. "Well then," he murmurs "It seems, my Isabella, that we have a deal."

And only then, when I nod again, does he release his grip on my hand. "Fascinating," he says.

AAAAAAA

**A/N:** I'm curious what people think of this chapter. Thanks to everyone who followed, favorite, and reviewed on the last chapter. I appreciate them all very much. :)


	6. An Ending

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Twilight, or the world. I am making no money from this.

CCCCCCC

It has been said, many times, that Caius Volturi is a sadist, and by all accounts it is true. It is also true that he looks like one. He's cold, blonde, beautifully menacing; there is no softness to his razor-edge features, no visible mercy.

On the very best of days, Caius, brother to Aro and Marcus, the leaders of the Volturi, looks merely intimidating.

This, it must be said, is not the very best of days.

It is early afternoon in Volterra. Caius clutches a mobile phone in his hand. It's an evil device, in his opinion, but necessary, along with computers and e-mail and a million other modern inventions that have only made him hate the human race even more than he already did. And he didn't think that was possible.

He's almost dizzy with anger. There's never any point with arguing over a human. It's beneath him. But he can't help it. It is so like Aro to ignore the rules selectively for the girted. If it were a normal human, if he could have read Isabella Swan's mind, Aro would have drained her on her doorstep.

But no, Aro juist has to have his collection. Jane, Alec … the list goes on. Caius has to admit they have their uses. But that's not the _point_.

Caius tries to calm himself. Each of his brothers has their function. Aro's is to improve the guard, the strength of the coven. To see the shades of grey, because he has to, when he enters someone's mind. The very fact that he can execute the law, to be their leader, knowing what he knows, is remarkable. Caius respects his brother.

Yes, everything they do, all of their work, is for the Volturi, and by extension the larger vampire world.

And yet, and yet …

He stops for a moment in an alcove and calms himself further. Behind him, Felix waits discreetly, a safe distance away. It is for all of their benefit, what Aro does. If the girl is useful, she should be turned. The Volturi protect the vampires. If it weren't for them, there would be no vampires by now. The humans would have killed them all.

Not that any of them appreciate it. Caius can feel his fury return, and shoves it down. His disturbed mood leads him to move faster, until he is a black, menacing streak along the corridors.

Athenodora is waiting for him in his private study. He's surprised, but he shouldn't be. She's been escaping the tower for years. And of course she would show up today of all days. His mate has a nose for trouble, and this day is shaping up to be moderately unfortunate. It therefore follows that she would appear.

He takes a moment to regard her. Caius' mate is blonde, like him, but where Caius looks like a bird of prey, she resembles a beautiful doll. She has a button nose and plump sweet bow-like lips. Her soft, golden blonde hair falls into ringlets that frame her perfect porcelain face. Her eyes are large, giving her an innocent appearance that has never, in fact, been reality.

Innocence, and the corruption of it, just happens to be Caius' weakness. He's always found her irresistible.

It's a problem, because despite her appearance, Athenodora's cunning, and her cruelty, can rival his own.

Right now, she's lounging sideways in a priceless chair, showcasing her long, perfect legs, which are bare underneath the skirt of a flirty spring dress. The shade of the gauzy fabric precisely matches the highlights in her glossy golden hair.

Caius can't help but admire her beauty. He knows he's a fool.

Athenodora speaks first. Her voice is sweet and musical, pleasing. "Darling, you're smiling again. It's frightening the servants."

Caius registers the fact that he's just stormed into his private study and, in the process, almost torn the iron door off its hinges. He takes in an unnecessary breath, and releases it.

He'll need his temper to deal with his wife. He always does.

"I didn't know you were here, Dora. You should return to the tower."

"Oh please. It's so boring." She waves a careless hand. "As if that child could keep me entertained." Athenodora swings her legs over the chair and stands, circling him. Caius represses the urge to follow her movements. Her hand trails over his arm as she passes.

"Corin is just doing her job," he says. "And a thankless one it is. You could be more considerate."

"Why? Did I ask to be put in a tower and kept in mood control by an eternal teenager? Don't blame me if I have to leave and have fun from time to time." Athenodora's voice is a sweet sing-song.

Caius rubs a hand over his face. He rarely saw his wife. Every time they met, he understood why that was, exactly. She was seductive and manipulative. Worse, she was effective.

Why could the guard not keep her in sight? It was infuriating.

"And Sulpicia?"

"Otherwise occupied," she said shortly. "I'm _bored_, Caius." Athenodora's wide, doll-like eyes glitter.

He stares at her. The last time his mate said she was bored was just before she and Sulpicia went on a killing rampage in a neighboring city. They had to invent a plague to explain the piles of bodies.

This is but one of the many reasons the wives are confined to the tower. They know they won't be killed, and tend to take advantage from time to time.

At least his mate isn't suicidal, like Aro's. Caius supposes it is a small blessing, although at times he really isn't sure.

Carefully, he asks, "What do you want, Dora?. I am very busy."

"I can see that." One of her fingers plays with her ringlets in a beguiling, girlish fashion. "But I'm curious as to what you have planned. I heard what happened from Demetri, and I really needed to know what will happen to Carlisle."

Caius feels himself bristling, and forces himself to relax. He was always jealous of the attention that Carlisle paid to his wife, and the fact that she found him so amusing when he lived among them.

"I'm working that out now," he says vaguely. "It's complex."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, they have a lot of gifted vampires."

"But what will happen to him? Surely _Carlisle_ won't be destroyed."

Caius raises an eyebrow. "He must have visited that tower more than I thought, for you to be this interested." His voice is insinuating.

"He spent time with us, Caius. He's one of the only people who ever did. Sulpicia loves him." Her tone makes it clear to whom she is referring.

Caius restrains his initial retort about her sister's obvious insanity. "You agreed to live there, Athenodora. This is unbecoming."

"I agreed for Sulpicia. Not you." Athenodora smiles, softening her words.

"Is she as usual?"

His wife shrugs indifferently. "If you call fits of self-loathing and self-destruction usual, then I suppose. You're changing the subject, my love."

Caius frowns at the endearment. Normally, Athenodora only uses those when she's hiding something. What is she up to? He says, "From poor, dear, _compassionate_ Carlisle. Yes, I was." His tone is mocking. "I notice your lack of concern for the others in his coven. Particularly his mate."

Athenodora examines one perfect nail, and purses her ruby red lips. "I forgot he found someone recently."

"It was almost a hundred years ago."

She sighs delicately. "Whatever. I heard she wasn't _too_ terrible to look at. What was her name again? Erma? Esba?" She places a frown on her childlike face, pretending to think, despite the fact they both know she has perfect recall.

"Esme." And Caius can't help it, he's amused by her antics. She's always been able to draw him in.

Like a spider.

"Ah yes," Dora says. "A bit of a masculine name. Well, I hope that nothing happens to the poor thing. And the others, of course, but you are being most closed-mouthed about the details."

Caius shakes his head at her. "After so many years, you're still so transparent," he said fondly.

"Only to you," Dora says, and grins wickedly. "Now tell me."

Caius gives in. "He broke the law. They all did. They should all be finished."

"Yes, but will Aro see it that way?"

"They left a human alive with knowledge. Left, with no intention of returning." He could feel his anger returning. "The arrogance of it is … staggering. I have no idea how they thought they could get away with this."

"Is this the broken girl? The one Aro is observing?" Athenodora asks. Her eyes are bright and interested. At his grimace, she muses,"A young human girl, abandoned, alone with a grudge against our kind. Hardly the ideal keeper of secrets. And yet I take it she didn't tell. How strange."

"No thanks to _them_. They refuse to stain their precious yellow eyes with human blood, even when all our lives are at stake. Far better that we should all be torn apart and burned thanrisk one petty human," Caius hopes to get his hands on the mind-reader soon. Even to be in the same room with him would be satisfying, just so he can visualize, in detail, what he exactly would like to do with him. After three thousand years, he could think of a few choice techniques.

He wants to make young Edward cry like a little girl.

Athenodora leans back, looking at him closely. "Aro doesn't think she's petty," she says. "He hasn't gone himself since Alec and Jane." Offhandedly she adds, "and Sulpicia, of course."

Caius remains silent. It's true, Aro finds her interesting, and who could blame him, when he can touch her and hear silence? He doesn't begrudge his brother the pleasure, he just hates the manner in which it came about.

The Cullens need to pay.

"The girl is not my problem at present. The coven is."

"That's all? You break up covens all the time."

"Yes. But not against a group like this. They are strong."

"You believe they will fight?" Athenodora looks shocked. "Surely not. Carlisle would know better."

"It's delicate," Caius says. "They have Maria's former second, who is also skilled in Pathokinesis. There's the main offender, Edward, who can read minds … but out main problem is a girl that can read the future."

"Alice Cullen," Athenodora says thoughtfully. "Yes, I've heard of her. She's unique, no?"

"Very. And that's not even to mention any fighting skills the others possess."

Athenodora arches her eyebrows in surprise. she's very impressed at the power Carlisle has amassed. "I'm surprised Aro let one coven acquire so many gifted."

"It was due to his relationship with Carlisle. Anyway, you see the problem."

Caius watches as Athenodora calculates everything he has said. He can't help but notice that this is the first time in a hundred years that his mate has shown an interest in his work. He regards her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. With her, he knows, everything happens for a reason. She's like Aro that way: always calculating the next move, always positioning, considering alternatives.

The question is, why she is here now?

But, despite knowing better, Caius can't help but notice also, Athenodora is lovely, here with him. It's been so long since they were together like this, without rancor. It's not that he missed her, exactly, but he does appreciate her presence.

Athenodora smiles at him knowingly. She looks like a child with a naughty secret. "Tell me how the psychic's powers work," she says, and somehow, Caius doesn't even mind that it sounds like a command. "Everything you know." She smiles. "I think I have an idea."

Caius returns her smile. How he loves her ruthless, cunning mind.

CCC

They stay in the study, working, for several hours. It is full dark when the cries of alarm, shouts and sounds of panic, reach them in the farthest corner of the castle. The voices are distant, but urgent sounding. Caius and Athenodora, both of whom have long experience with raids and sieges, war and bloodshed, leave quickly, streaking down corridors, followed by their combined personal guard.

They should go away from the noises, but something draws them toward the noise. Later, Caius is not certain, athough he suspects, why this is.

The stench of smoke is nearly overwhelming when they arrive, and it's clear it is far too late to intervene. From an outside courtyard, the two blonde vampires look up toward the sky.

There, against the black backdrop of invisible stars, is Sulpicia's tower. It's an inferno, a brilliant, blazing, deadly torch.

Caius stares at it, then at his mate. He's shocked, although he knows he shouldn't be. It all makes sense now. The timing of her visit, his suspicions. He really should have guessed.

Thousands of years, and he still hasn't learned.

Aro was going to murder someone for this. Caius only had a moderate certainty it wouldn't be him.

Of course Athenodora doesn't look surprised. At least she's not pretending. Caius looks back at the fire. It's raging with a fierceness that can only mean massive fuel and premeditation.

How did Sulpicia manage it? He wonders.

His mate's hands are on her hips, and her perfect doll's face is staring into the sky at the blazing remains of her home.

"What do you know," Athenodora says mildly. "She finally succeeded."

"So it would seem." Caius doesn't have many feelings for Sulpicia one way or the other. Mainly, he just wonders how Corin, and the rest of the guard—for there were several assigned to the wives—let this happen.

"Did you know she going to do this?"

"She was planning it for a thousand years, Caius," Athenodora says. "Of course I knew."

"And did you help her?"

Athenodora watches the tower burn still. Now she's expressionless. "I might have helped her with a limb or two."

Caius thinks about that. Aro is going to be furious. Not that his mate died, of course—he and Sulpicia hated one another—but that she outsmarted him.

"She never wanted to turn," he says, feeling defeated. "Not really. He persuaded her."

"No," his wife agrees. "She did it for Aro. But it was time." She pauses. "Past time."

Caius remembers how Sulpicia begged for death. Every year on the same date, she came before them, and every year, Aro refused. Every year for the last thousand she was dragged back to her tower, screaming. He knows she's right.

"I would rather die than be in that tower with her for another single year, Caius." Athenodora's voice is emotionless. "He can kill me."

He only nods silently. Even with her sister's help, it would have taken careful determination and planning for Sulpicia to outwit Corin and the other guards. She's been watched very carefully for just this sort of event for a very long time. And the fact that she waited until Aro left the castle could hardly be hardly a coincidence.

No, he doesn't blame Athenodora. Left to his own devices, he would have lit the match himself, a thousand years ago. He only voted no as a favor to his brother.

Together they continue to stare at the fire that consumes their sister. It seems contained to the tower, and Caius has no doubt that it's being handled. Beside them at the edge of the courtyard, Marcus silently appears.

"My my," he says quietly, by way of greeting. "A vampire suicide. She's surely damned now." He hardly sounds interested.

"Spare me the human superstitions, if you please," Caius returns. It's a very old argument.

Around them, the rest of the guard arrive, and silently every member of the coven, from high to low, stares upward, paying tribute to the end of Sulpicia Volturi.

None of them can say they miss her. Still, they witness it.

From above, there's a faint crash, and a body drops to the pavement. It's smoldering but not burning.

"Remarkable," Marcus says, and it is. They all stare at it. Vampires are, after all, extremely flammable. "Is that Corin?"

Caius steps forward. Underneath his boots, broken glass from the tower crunches against the stones of the courtyard. It is Corin, and he's grateful. Gleeful, even.

Now he has someone to blame other than Athenodora. After all, it's vulgar to torture one's wife.

Felix says, "Master?" He's holding a bucket. Caius looks at Corin, debating. It would be pleasant letting her burn there into ash at his feet. Watch her smoke rise up around him. Watch her disappear. If there;s anything he hates, it is failure.

How is she still alive? He wonders if she has a secondary gift. He mentally shrugs. It hardly matters. He, certainly, does not care at all.

"She's useful for Chelsea," Marcus reminds him quietly.

Caius nods. Corin keeps Chelsea content, this is true. And Chelsea is extremely useful to them. He nods at Felix, and there's a sizzling sound that makes almost all of the vampires cringe slightly. Caius comes closer.

"Master … thank you." Corin's voice is quiet, a breath of a whisper, but they all hear it.

Caius leans over her, and with one fingernail peels off a layer of the skin left on her forehead. It scrapes off into a purplish ash. He smiles kindly into Corin's blackened face. "You're welcome, Corin, but you really shouldn't thank me. I wouldn't want you to die by fire, you see. Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for death." His smile widens, and his voice lowers to become confidential, as if they're sharing a secret belonging only to the two of them. "Any death at all. Again and again."

He straightens and looks at Felix. "Leave her in the courtyard until Aro comes b ack." He turns away.

"When is he expected to return?" Marcus asks. He's more compassionate than Caius, but he's still a Volturi. No doubt he'll order Corin fed later, but he won't interfere. She failed her post, and the coven isn't forgiving. She'll be lucky if Aro doesn't rip her head off instead of giving her to Caius.

"Two weeks."

Marcus glances up at the ruined tower fleetingly. The flames are burning themselves out; the servants have managed to keep it contained. Now they'll have to deal with the human damage control. "I only hope the young one Aro brings is more stable than she was," he says.

"Aro does have a habit of picking the damaged." Athenodora agrees. She wears a hint of a smile.

Caius looks at them, baffled and horrified. "You're not serious. She's meant for the guard. Nothing more."

Marcus tilts his head, and his eyes become unfocused, as if he's looking at something the others can't see. "Perhaps, brother," he acknowledges quietly. "Perhaps not." With that, and without explaining, he leaves.

Caius stares after his brother. "Could this day get any worse?" he asks rhetorically.

"I forgot to mention," Athenodora says. "I won't be going back in a tower again." Her smile is feral. "Now that I'm no longer required for babysitting, I'll be staying with you, my love."

Caius closes his eyes very briefly. Oh how he wants to cause someone pain. He looks at Corin and bares his teeth. From across the courtyard, the guard stares at him in fear, and it's a start.

For now.

Two weeks. It's not such a very long time.

CCCC

A/N: Wow, it seemed like this chapter took forever. Thanks to everyone who favored, followed, and especially reviewed. Please let me know if you have an opinion about the story; I love to hear them. Hopefully I did Caius and Athenodora justice.

The next chapter will be back to the main characters. I think.


	7. A Possession

A/N at end.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Twilight world or characters. I just want more of them, that's all. No money is being made from this.

AAAAA

Aro Volturi is possessive, amoral, and more than a touch controlling. These are the qualities that led him to found his coven, the Volturi, that pushed him to overthrow the ineffectual Romanians, and to conquer the entire vampire world.

These same qualities explain why Aro stands inside Isabella Swan' bedroom, uninvited. It's the night before he is to pick her up for their very first outing. It is fourteen minutes past midnight, according to the girl's modern bedside clock, and Aro Volturi is hovering, perfectly still, over her bed.

He, the ancient, formidable vampire leader, feared by so many, has snuck into a young woman's room. And he's holding a tiny, disposable Dixie cup.

He has already looked around at leisure. Isabella's room is small but tidy. The walls are bare, as if they've recently be stripped of personality and decoration. The air reeks of the floral scent from her blood and the fading stench of Edward Cullen. Aro wrinkles his nose against the latter, unpleasant, smell.

It is clear that the mind-reader used to lie on her bed with her. The idea makes Aro want to damage Edward critically, a thought that is puzzling and illogical. By rights, Aro knows, he should really be thanking the child. It's a wonderful opportunity, Edward's carelessness, one that Aro will exploit as fully as possible.

He closes his eyes and breathes in the flowery aroma of Isabella. Hunger rises in him. She smells so delicious. Refreshing. Sweet. How lovely it would be to taste her blood, but he must wait for even the sample. It's a pity, but necessary.

The window is slightly ajar from where he entered, and through the gap Aro can hear the wind rush by. Aro swallows against his burning throat. It is clear that he needs to feed soon, if he wants to spend any time around this young woman without frightening her.

He mustn't. Aro needs to earn her trust, something she's not going to want to give easily. It's not absolutely necessary that she feel comfortable around him—for he plans on taking her either way—but it would make many things less difficult. Because of this, he has decided to try.

For he has decided that Isabella will be his. He knew from the first moment that she stared at him in that impertinent manner on her doorstep, when she forced herself to stand still before him and hold fast against her obvious fear. He knew immediately.

In what function Isabella will belong to him, Aro does not know. His like the twins? Something else? He isn't sure. But his, nonetheless.

The tiny bathroom cup in Aro's hand is filled with his clear, viscous venom. It's not enough to turn Isabella, but it is enough to mark her. When another vampire smells her, they may notice her floral aroma. If they have a keen nose, they may even scent the fading odor of the young, stupid Edward.

But mainly, definitely, they will smell Aro Volturi.

Aro smiles grimly. Any vampire who isn't scared off by his mark, he will cheerfully teach to be very afraid, indeed. And then he'll take them to Volterra in a box filled with plastic-wrapped pieces of vampire.

His brother Caius has been terribly cranky lately. He could use a gift.

But it's time to get down to business. Aro searches Isabella's body for any scratches or cuts. His hands are light and deft. Even when he has to move the girl's blanket and turn her to one side, she doesn't more than stir slightly.

Aro finds a cut, finally, on the inside of her left ankle. It's fairly deep, but he has excellent self-control. He's glad to have found it, because blood application is the very most effective.

Standing in the long shadows by her bed, Aro takes a moment to think before he does this thing. As old as he is, even he isn't certain the effect of so much vampire venom on a gifted human. She clearly had to have taken in at least a little before, from that bite scar of hers.

Ah, the folly of the Cullens, to keep her human … Aro pushes it from his mind. That mistake is his and his coven's good fortune.

She is lovely, in a disheveled way. He doesn't understand her sleepwear, although it is amusing. He fingers her flannel pajamas as he watches her breathe. They're soft against the papery texture of his fingers. Aro feels a strange rush of fondness for the girl who is soon to share his essence, if only slightly.

Perhaps, he muses, the venom will help the girl's gift to manifest earlier, while she is a human? It's impossible to say, as this has almost never done. Yet Aro knows he must do this. Regardless of what the risk could be, he feels compelled—_driven_—to mark Isabella in some way. And quickly.

With one long, dexterous finger, Aro pushes his venom into the cut. He holds her leg, waiting for it to absorb, then adds more. The girl does not stir. He does this again, and again, until he's satisfied that he can apply no more. Then, to be certain, he tips the remainder of the venom into her slightly open mouth. Isabella coughs against the moisture, then swallows reflexively.

It's done.

He watches her settle into a deeper sleep. He doesn't rush to leave. Jane and Alec are waiting on him outside, beyond the tree line, but they can wait. It's not as if they will mind; guarding the Volturi is their reason for existence, their religion.

Aro feels a peculiar sense of satisfaction at what he has done. A small smile curves his lips as he watches the girl sleep. It doesn't matter that he can't hear into her glorious, silent mind. Doesn't matter that she's still fixated on the irritating, self-loathing young Edward.

None of that matters in the slightest. Isabella is his now.

She just doesn't realize it yet.

AAA

A/N: Shorter chapter, but I cut by scene and not length (usually). The next one looks kind of fun so far. For those that wonder, I don't plan on demonizing Edward. The various characters will have their points of view, and those will vary.

Thanks to the reviewers! Also thanks to everyone who favorite / followed. It is appreciated. :)


	8. A Vision Past

A/N at end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I am not making money from this.

XXXX

I can't sleep, so I spend the morning before my meeting with Henry the vampire catching up on homework. I figure thatif I'm heading to my death, at least my schoolwork won't suffer. But I'm not really headed for my death, am I? Henry could have killed me easily the day before, and he didn't. So that means I'm safe.

Right?

_They like to toy with their kills, Bella … Remember James? _

I shake my head and tell myself not to be stupid. Henry is a friend of Carlisle's.

_According to him. Can't exactly confirm that with Cullen Senior, M.D., now can you? They never mentioned Henry. And who's to say knowing Carlisle means anything? You're just a cast-off human, Bella. Fair game._

_No. They would care if I was harmed._

_Sure. So where's your protection? Victoria is still out there. They know you're mortal, Bella. You're going to die sooner or later._

_**Stop.**_

I shake my head. Where did all of the courage I had Saturday night go?

_Use logic, Bella._

I decide that will be fine. Henry might want something from me, but I don't think it's my blood. Not just that, anyway. And, who knows, maybe what this vampire said is even the truth.

I struggle to work on my essay. With these sorts of thoughts on my mind, it's no wonder it takes me hours to finish.

Still, for all my worry, I can't help but think, It is almost refreshing to be concerned with something besides the Cullens, for once. Moving pictures of Edward form my brain's wallpaper, coloring my every thought. It is exhausting. I want it to end. I welcome distraction, anything. Even if it is a red-eyed vampire.

I wonder what Edward thinks of Henry, if they are close. There is something about Henry, I think. Something different, even for a vampire. It's almost as if he is assuming something, but I didn't know what it is.

These are ridiculous thoughts. And Edward probably hates him. After all, Henry kills humans, and Edward Cullen isn't exactly the non-judgmental type.

I chew my lip, thinking of questions for Henry that I probably wouldn't have the nerve to ask. Was he a nomad? Part of a coven? Head? How old was he? How did he know Carlisle?

I wonder why Henry really wants me to spend time with him. His explanation didn't make sense to me. Why would he want my company? I was a completely average human.

Once I give up and close my books for the day—sweet relief, I can't wait to graduate—I go through my closet. I stand there, stumped. What does one wear to meet a vampire friend of your immortal ex-boyfriend's pseudo-father?

I can't help but think that Alice or Esme or even Rosalie—if she deigned to speak to me—would know what was appropriate.

I'm hopeless at this kind of thing. I eye my jeans. They're kind of old, true, but not _that _worn, and with this weather …

As if my thought triggers it, I glimpse white at the top of my closet, and I frown. I don't keep anything up there, ever. It's too high to reach, and with my grace and coordination, I would likely break my leg getting anything down.

I squint up at it. There is definitely something up there. A large bag? I can't be sure.

Against my better judgment, I pull over my chair, since the top shelf is well over six feet high. Teetering on my tip-toes, I finally manage to drag out the bag with two fingers.

Several large boxes escape the bag, tumble down onto my head, slide across the floor. _What the …?_

I get down slowly, rubbing my head. The boxes are from a store I recognize. It's a place Alice used to shop. A crushing sensation, equal parts dread and excitement, fills me.

All of the clothes, for I assume they are clothes—what else would it be—are in thick glossy cardboard boxes and wrapped in tissue paper, closed with gold stickers. It's the kind of thiung they do at the places where Alice shops. Where I shop, you have to dig through racks and they use plastic shopping bags.

_Just another difference between us. Rich, poor, vampire, human._

But I can't not open the first box, and I am unsurprised by what it contains. It's an outfit, top and bottom, expensive and well-made, and complete with accessories. I sigh.

If I were sane, I would stop now. I close my eyes. My jeans are fine. These things can go back on the shelf, or to charity, or to the Cullen's front doorstep in a flaming heap of fabric.

One of those.

But of course I don't do any of those things. I'm weak. I look.

It's a tunic style shirt with a lace-up top. The length, I can tell, is meant to skim tops of my thighs. It's paired with thick leggings. There are silver hoop earrings and a thick silver ring that matches.

I look at it and debate wearing these clothes. Who cares what this Henry thinks of me, anyway? He'll be gone soon.

And then, like an idiot, I try them on. I look at myself in the mirror, and know I can't wear my own clothes. I look good, very good, and the outfit is actually comfortable. It's like Alice was actually thinking of my own preferences for once.

I draw out a pair of black ballet flats from the bottom of the box, and a small note flutters to the ground. I bend down and grab it. Seeing the words, it becomes hard to breathe.

It is dated six months ago. Before my birthday. Before any of it happened.

XXXXX

_Dear Bella, _

_Yesterday I had a vision of you meeting a vampire I recognized, and it was shocking. I don't know why or how this comes about, and perhaps something will happen to change this, but I don't think so. I have learned to rely on my visions._

_I could tell in my vision that he meant you no physical harm. I could also see that it would be better if I didn't tell you more about him, or tell my family what I saw ... How I wish I knew why this was, because it goes against my common sense. Against my own wishes. It's frustrating, but, again, I've learned to trust these things. _

_So I won't tell, although if any of my family knew … well, suffice it to say that they would vigorously disagree. Thank goodness Edward was out hunting when I realized all of this._

_I am rambling. Sorry, Bella! In my vision, you were meeting him in some old jeans—I think I recognized the pair, please get rid of them— and a hoodie. Keeping this meeting a secret from my family is one thing; not telling you details is another. I draw the line at allowing that outfit that I saw to happen! _

_These boxes contain outfits and a few other things you will need for your time with him, clothes that I thought you might actually wear and not what I think you would look great in (yes, Bella, I do know the difference, despite what you think). _

_I know you will never accept these things directly because you will think it's accepting too much. You always do. I also had an image of Edward taking things from your room at some point, including some great jewelry that I gave you. I'm not sure what that's all about. Because of this, I have put these up on the top of your closet for when the time comes that you'll need them. Don't worry-once I decided to hide them, I could see you finding them, so it all will work out!_

_That's all, Bella, aside from some advice about the man you are meeting: He's a little strange, and his morals aren't the same as ours, especially when it comes to humans. Don't be frightened, but do be careful. Be very sincere and respectful; he will know if you lie. You do not want to make an enemy of this vampire, ever._

_And yes, Bella, he will care if you are dressed in jeans. __So don't you dare__!_

_I don't understand this … I wish I could see more, but I'm sure you'll do fine. If any human can handle this, it's you. Good luck._

_Your sister, _

_Alice_

_XXXXX_

I drop back down to my floor, curling up and crumpling the letter in both hands. The pain is back, but it's duller than before.

By rights, I should wear the hoodie and jeans. What do I have to prove to this vampire, anyway? It would also send a nice middle-finger message to Alice, if she saw.

But the problem is, I miss Alice so much. And I actually like the clothes. And these things that she got me are the only physical reminders of her, of _them_, that I have left now.

I already know what I'm going to do. _Damn you, Alice Cullen_.

X

The next day is cloudy, and I don't know whether to be glad or terrified. I am willingly consorting with vampires again. Even better, this one ate people.

_._What was wrong with me, that I couldn't stay away from trouble? This latest decision of mine was really one for the 'Darwin Awards-Supernatural Edition.'

I sigh. Henry would only be in the Forks area temporarily, and after that I would never have to see him again. This thought should reassure me, but it doesn't help.

My brain churns. Maybe I could just ignore the door when the time came. Better yet, I could drive to town and stay there all day, surrounded by people. Afterward, I could sleep over with Angela or Jessica. For the rest of my life.

_He's powerful, and you don't want him as an enemy, ever_.Alice's words came to me, then. I had a feeling that cancelling on what had seemed to be such an old-world, old-school vampire might just qualify as an insult. And an insult would likely equal me, minus my blood.

Yeah, so, meeting Henry it was, then.

I get dressed in a haze, dry my hair, apply mascara and lip gloss, and sit mechanically on the couch, tapping my foot anxiously while I wait.

At least my doom is punctual. Henry knocks at ten precisely. I open the door, since Charlie is at work. I haven't told him about my new job yet, and I'm not sure he would be at all pleased.

The vampire and I look at one another. Henry is a little less ominous looking in daylight, which is a relief. He's dressed casually, but it's rich businessman casual, which is still a million times nicer than anything a person in Forks would wear. Seeing him, I know that I made the right decision to trust Alice.

I pull my mind away from that particular, painful thought.

"Isabella," Henry says. His faint accent is slightly more pronounced today. I wonder where he's from. "May I say, you look even lovelier out of your sleepwear." His smile is mischievous.

Did he just say … that? I flounder and wisely decide to pretend that I didn't notice the double-meaning. "Thank you."

"My pleasure _entirely_, my dear." He takes my hand, and smiles at he, opening his eyes and grinning widely. He has that slightly crazy look again. "What a marvel you are," he says.

I have no idea what to say to this, or why he is saying it, so I just say thank you again. This seems to be sufficient for Henry. Less than five minutes later I am in yet another fancy car with yet another vampire. Supple leather seats? Check. Quiet, powerful engine? Check. Ultra tinted windows? Double check. Some things never change.

This is very different from riding with Edward, though, and much less safe. I am very aware of how close this vampire is to me, less than an arm's length away. I'm not great at recognizing scents, but his is spicy and warm. I like it.

I settle in to the car and scan quickly for hand holds. None. I'll have to improvise.

But when we reach the highway, the terrifying speed never happens. Henry goes the speed limit. I look over at him questioningly.

"You have something to say, Isabella." It's not a question. He smiles at me, taking his eyes completely off the road. So much for not being nervous about his driving.

"I … " I blink. "You don't drive super-fast," I blurt, then wince. "Not that there's anything wrong with the way you drive. I actually prefer—"

Henry smiles. He seems amused, which relieves me. "Isabella," he says, in his musical voice, cutting me off,"Relax, please. Your heart is going very fast right now. Do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

I wince in embarrassment. "Is it that obvious? Sorry. Please don't take it personally."_._

He laughs. "You're in a car with a vampire, and you're worried about offending me? What a treasure you are, my dear." His voice becomes thoughtful. "Having only known the Cullens, I imagine it's normal you would be frightened of me."

I look out the window. I'm not sure what to say about that. "I guess."

"As for my speed, no, I don't."

"Why?" I can't resist asking.

"You're such a curious little thing," he says. There's a a thoughtful pause, like he's really thinking about the answer. "It's conspicuous," he says finally. "If I get pulled over, then there's a police officer to deal with."

"But that's just a ticket. You do have a license, don't you?" I can't help it: I'm a cop's daughter after all. Maybe that's why I can't seem to keep myself from poking into things I shouldn't.

Henry chuckles. "I do have one of your government's plastic cards, yes. It even has my picture on it." He sounds almost proud of this fact. Why, I have no idea.

"So why does it matter if you get pulled over?" In the midst of my curiosity, I forget to be nervous of him. I somehow doubt that Henry would have issues paying his tickets.

"I could talk my way out of a ticket, Isabella, but I guess you could say that I have some … authority issues. Is that how you phrase it? I dislike, very much, being told what to do, especially by humans."

I can't help but laugh. "Issues with authority?" Then I sober. I realize what could happen with a pissed-off vampire. Issues, indeed. For the cop.

"I see you get the idea." Henry nods. "Police officers these days have cameras on their cars, they're well accounted for and check in regularly with their radios. It's the very definition of conspicuous hunting, which is forbidden."

I shiver. It's not that he minds killing them, it's that it's too flashy. "Got it," I mutter. So, speed for Henry equals cop killing. Good to know.

What the hell have I gotten myself into here?

We're silent for a little while after that, which is kind of understandable, considering my father is the chief of police in Forks.

"I've made you nervous, Isabella," Henry says. His voice is quiet. "That was not my intention."

"I'm fine."

Henry nods. "I imagine the Cullens were less open about their nature."

"They didn't kill humans," I say. "So there was nothing to be open about." Then I remember Jasper's face at my birthday party, and how Alice had to leave the room. Maybe that's not precisely true. "I'm sorry," I say. "I don't mean to be offensive. I guess you're just asking a cow to be on board with steak production."

Thankfully, Henry isn't offended by my analogy. He laughs amusedly. "You're a treat, Isabella." When his laughter fades, we fall into another, more comfortable silence. Henry smiles as he drives, like he's thinking of a pleasant secret. It's a weirdly human expression.

I decide that I like Henry. He's good company, in a frightening sort of way.

XXXXX

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed / favorited / followed. It's nice to see people interested in the story. I'm very interested to hear thoughts on the chapter, if people have them. :)


	9. A Bridge to the Underworld

A/N at end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and am making no money from this.

XXXXX

We've made the turn-off to I-5 and are now only a half hour south of Seattle. It's late morning; we left very early in order to make it there before afternoon. My dad knows about Henry now, and it's a miracle, because somehow Henry managed to charm Charlie without even seeming to try too hard. Last night, I watched with my mouth open as my father—the police chief—gave me his blessing on my new job. One that involves road trips with a strange, foreign, older male.

And then he gave me a fifty.

Wait, what?

"Uh, Dad … I'm fine. I don't need this." Who was this man, and what had he done with Charlie?

"Take it, Bella," Charlie said. Smiling. Smiling! "Have a good time."

I took the money in a state of shock. I couldn't help but be disappointed in my dad's ability to judge character. It felt like he should know better. I liked Henry, this was true, but it was also true that he was a (human) bloodsucking vampire. And, let's face it, a little odd.

Not someone you sent your daughter on outings with plus spending money, no questions asked. While smiling!

To Charlie's credit, he did remember to issue his usual warnings about perverts with camera phones, the futility of crying for help (always yell 'fire'), and which sensitive bits to go for if someone tries to kidnap you.

The whole thing made me suspicious. I couldn't help but wonder what Henry had done, to make my dad like him so much. They'd shaken hands and had what seemed like a perfectly normal conversation.

It was almost like Henry knew exactly what to say, and precisely how to say it.

I suppose now that it is good Charlie is on board. I am enjoying my new 'job.' It's a ridiculous charade, of course; I haven't asked about money and Henry hasn't brought it up. Also, this vampire clearly doesn't need me there; he does all the talking with the managers. Why he wants me around, I have no idea.

But he does. Henry is very insistent upon that point. He wouldn't hear of me breaking our 'agreement.'

I look out the window as we drive north. The scenery is so green and lush, like everything here. It's usual for this part of Washington State in early spring: still grey overhead but with a verdant landscape.

I've noticed that around Henry, I don't feel the contrast as much as I did before. Maybe I'm finally starting to move forward from them, from him. I almost don't dare to think of it, for fear that will make the feeling go away.

I watch Henry as he drives. He still goes the speed limit, but I've noticed that he is aggressive with the other cars. He pulls up behind, too closely. He passes with abandon, sometimes muttering to himself. I don't recognize the language. Italian? Maybe. Something else? There's so much I don't know about this vampire.

It scares me a little, how interesting I find Henry. His personality is a discordant combination of thoughtful gravity and sheer childlike delight—at times, glee—that I've never encountered in anyone. He flips from one to the other without warning, sometimes in the same sentence.

I should wonder about his mental health. Instead I'm enthralled. I've never met anyone like him, vampire or human.

"You're staring at me, Isabella," he says. To my relief, he seems amused.

I look away quickly. "I'm sorry."

He hums. "Any particular reason, or should I just make up my own? I have some in mind, already." His voice is a playful, musical. Insinuating.

And now I'm starting to blush. I can feel the heat on my cheeks. He likes to tease me like this, although I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it. I'm just an easy target. "I was just thinking that you look younger than I thought."

He half-smiles. "Your opinion has changed?"

"No—I mean, yes, it has, but—it's just, there's something about you that suggests age, I don't know what, but looking now, I realize you must have been a young man when you were turned." And now I am officially tomato colored. I wish I didn't get so easily flustered.

To my relief, Henry doesn't seem angry. Instead, there's a weird half-smile on his face. "Any other impressions, my dear?"

In for a penny, I suppose … I ignore my nervousness. "Yes. I think you're one of those people, they're attractive because of their personality—don't get me wrong, you're handsome," I add hastily, "all vampires are, am I right? It's sort of standard issue. But you're compelling because of who you are, not because your looks alone." I shrug and stop myself from adding what I was thinking.

_Unlike Edward, who was flawless but lacked fire, _I think. Why do I feel disloyal?

Henry is silent for a while after this, although I sense he's thinking. Finally, he speaks. "Can I hold your hand, Isabella?"

I swallow against a dry throat. Physical contact with Henry seems like a less-than-wise idea, but I have no reason to say no. Ever so slowly, I open my left hand and slide it over the center console for him to grasp. Henry takes it in his right hand, lightly sliding his long, dry fingers from my wrist over my palm, past my own fingers to intertwine them with his. His skin is cold and slightly rough, but the weight of his hand is comforting.

I can't help but think that it's sensual. Almost erotic.

Ridiculous. But true.

"Such a relief," Henry says, sighing.

"My hand?" I frown in confusion. Out the windshield to the left, I can see the outline of Mt. Rainier rising beyond the water of Puget Sound. The sky is overcast, but thankfully there's no actual drizzle. We've entered the city. I wonder how this compares to where Henry lives. I still don't know much about him.

He's so skilled, this vampire, answering some questions and deflecting others. And it's always in such a way that I feel rude, making a point of it.

But I sense now, that Henry's finally going to tell me something personal. I shouldn't be as elated about it as I am.

But I am. I was right.

"I have a gift, Isabella," Henry says. "I … know things about people. When I touch them skin to skin." He smiles, and the child I like is there in him, full of undiluted happiness. His eyes are wide and wondering. "But not now. With you I see _nothing_. You're extraordinary, Isabella."

I lock eyes with him. "Wow." To just know things about people without them telling you? It's like Edward, of course, but I try not to dwell on him as I consider this. "How much can you tell about someone?"

"Everything," Henry says. The child isgone now, as quickly as he came. "All of it."

"As in …"

"Every secret desire, life event, every deception and cheat, plot, love and heartbreak, every twisted fantasy a person has had from the time they could contain memory until the moment they touch me. From the time I became a vampire, this is how it has been for me."

I'm breathless. I have no idea what to say. The gift Henry has is both staggering, and horrifying. Wondrous and heartbreaking. I don't know if I should apologize or be awestruck.

I thought that Edward had it hard, but this is something else entirely. Henry is exponentially more powerful than Edward. But he can never kiss, never touch, never … How could he ever be close to anyone?

I think of someone knowing everything about me, every detail, while kissing me, and shudder.

I bite my lip. "Is it difficult?"

Henry looks over at me. "Sometimes. Yes." He grimaces. "It is hard to be other people all the time. I lose myself when I am in their minds. And I know so much. Too much, Isabella, more than any person or vampire ever should. It's very useful, without it things would be so different for us, but it is tiring." He releases my hand and runs a finger over my bare palm. "You're the only person who has ever been closed to me," he says.

I look down. Now I understand why I'm here. Why Henry has taken such an interest. The reason for his whole job pretense. "Edward said the same thing." I wish I could keep the bitterness from my voice, but I can't.

Henry's hand drops away, and he looks back at the road. There's a strange expression on his pale face, like he's conflicted about something. "He couldn't read your mind?"

I nod in the affirmative. I don't know why I feel so hurt right now.

You're upset," Henry says. "I've reminded you of him. That was clumsy of me, Isabella."

"It's okay. I just wish ..." _That my locked brain wasn't the only interesting thing about me. _ I can feel tears fill my eyes. I will them not to fall. "That's why you want to spend time with me, then," I say.

Henry doesn't respond immediately. We're in the city proper now. He pulls off at the next exit and enters the parking lot of a low-rent strip mall. Parks and gets out. With one arm, Henry pulls me gently out of the car.

We're parked in front of a dry cleaner advertising ten shirts for ten dollars. Next to it, there's a convenience store advertising cigarettes and beer, and a pawn shop with bars on the windows. The pavement is riddled with potholes, there are weeds growing through the cracks in the sidewalk by the road, and we're standing there, staring at each other.

"This is ridiculous," I say, shivering. I wish I had brought a sweater. Today's Alice outfit is a sleeveless pastel dress paired with matching knee-high flat boots. I should have worn jeans. "We can just go on to the gallery."

"No," he says.

"Why? I'm fine."

One of Henry's hands tips up my chin. The fingers of his other hand gently pull my face to look at his. I try and avoid it, but it's impossible. He's hypnotic. I stare at him through my lashes, caught. He's staring at me intently, like I'm the only thing in the entire world.

"You're so very intriguing, Isabella, and only part of it is your gift." Henry stares at me a moment longer, then leans in to speak into my ear. This close, his scent is so strong. I can feel the cold of his textured skin against my cheek. "You have no idea how appealing you are, Isabella, how _ripe_." His voice is slightly shaky.

I can't breathe. I want him to come closer. I want him to move away. I'm both frightened and excited. Frozen.

Henry leans back, enough so he can see my eyes. His body is still against mine. I don't know if anyone has ever been close to me quite like this. "I don't tell people pretty lies, Isabella," he murmurs, "I don't need to. I may not tell the whole truth, but I rarely use a falsehood."

"Rarely?" I whisper. That's not never.

Henry sighs and moves back marginally further, an inch at most. "Yes," he says. "Really."

I lick my lips. I can't be dazzled by yet another vampire. I won't be.

"I have never lied directly to you, Isabella," he says. It's almost a croon.

"But you have deceived me." I don't know how I know, but I do. I glare up at him.

Henry puts his hands up. The grin is back, and once again, he's delighted. Can vampires be bipolar?

"You're like a fierce kitten," Henry says, shaking his head. He seems almost—fond? "Lovely human Isabella, with your blushes and questions. You don't even know what you want, do you?"

"What was the lie, Henry?"

One of Henry's hands pushes my hair behind my ear, leaving a trail of ice and heat, and I find myself riveted to again. "Not a lie. Do you trust me, Isabella?"

"I don't know. " My voice is a whisper. "It would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it?" I stare at the ground. I hate that I want to trust him.

"Very well," he says. His voice is emotionless. "My name is not Henry."

I take a shuddering breath. "What? "Then what is it?" I demand.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Henry-not-Henry sighs. What do I even call him now? "I want you to know me without my reputation getting in the way. Isabella. That, and I have enemies with spies everywhere."

"Good or bad?" I ask. "Your reputation."

The vampire opposite me shrugs, watching me closely "Bad. I'm not a nice person, Isabella."

"You've been nice to me. What do you want?"

"I can be," he says, "to my friends and family. And to people I want to be so. And I am very loyal to both."

I frown. "You want me to be your friend?"

Henry's still watching me closely. "Yes. I would very much like us to be friends, Isabella. Perhaps, close friends."

I lick my lips. Close friends. All of those feelings I've been having about him come to me then, along with the pain. "But … you're leaving," I say. My voice is low and rough. "I don't want any more friends who leave."

To my horror, I can feel tears escape and slide down my cheeks. Henry captures one with a finger. "And I don't even know what to call you," I say miserably.

"Call me Henry," he says. It's what he said when I met him; I remember now. Not, 'my name is,' but 'call me.'

"You're too slippery," I say, shaking my head.

"Only when I need to be," Henry says. And he smiles. Bastard.

I stare up at him. I have no idea what to think of this vampire. I'm being played, I think, and he's making it so I don't even mind.

_And he's leaving,_ I remind myself. _Like before._

I take a deep breath. What right do I have to judge this vampire? Why should it matter to me at all? He's been nothing but polite and he's good company. He clearly means me no harm. No physical harm, anyway.

And he's leaving.

"It's okay," I say. I try and make my tone as detached as I can, and I avoid looking into his eyes. "I'm sure you have your reasons, and you're going soon, right?"

Henry says nothing.

"Do you really know Carlisle?"

"Yes. We've been friends for many, many years. I knew him when he was almost a newborn." Henry pauses. "I have great respect for him, normally."

"Normally?" I whisper.

"I don't understand what they did with you," he says quietly.

The last thing I want to do is relive the last several months of my life. Not now. I don't know if I can take it. I lick my lips. "Just … just tell me you won't lie to me while we're together, okay?" I swipe at my face, removing the last of the tears. "Please."

Henry has a strange look on his face, like he's a little sad. "There will be many lies of omission, Isabella. A great many. I'm afraid I am very very good at them."

I close my eyes. How many of those have I told to Charlie? And I love him. "If I figure things out, you won't lie when I ask." I make solid eye contact with him now, because I need to know if he's lying. If he can't promise me that much, I tell myself that I'll never trust him.

"Yes," Henry says. Then he amends, "Unless you are in danger. And there will be questions I cannot confirm, ever, Isabella. That I will ignore."

I consider this. It makes sense that an old vampire will have secrets. I don't like it, but I can accept it. To a point.

"Imminent danger," I say firmly. "Or no deal."

Henry grins at me. Two of his chilled fingers pass over my lips, and I let him. We stare at one another, and I shiver. "As you wish," he says.

XXXXX

The long-awaited gallery, it is large, brightly lit, and filled with a wide variety of art forms. Not-Henry seems mildly pleased. As I've learned over the last few days, he knows a staggering amount about art, which I guess makes sense for a collector of greater than human age. I can tell the managers and owners are intimidated by Henry, I can tell, by his knowledge and his beauty, but mostly by his intensity.

I like to watch him speak to them, watch as they become ever more interested and excited. See as the dazed look grows in their eyes. Henry is passionate about art.

Strangely, though, Henry doesn't seem to mind that I know nothing about art at all. He never makes me feel stupid, even I am ignorant. Nor does he act like a walking encyclopedia, showing off his own knowledge.

I watch as Henry cruises the aisles of this gallery rapidly. There are only a few people around, and the place is mostly empty. I trail along beside him for a little while, listening to him talk to himself, saying things that I don't understand, commenting on who the artist's work reminds him of, or how they tried for something else and got it wrong. There have been a few pieces Henry has liked since we started these outings, but only one he's bought so far, at the first gallery.

I leave him muttering across from an abstract geometric painting (I learned this term from Henry) with concentric yellow triangles. To me, it looks like something my grandmother used to stencil. I don't say that to Henry, who seems lost in thought.

Lacking a purpose other than watching him ponder triangles, I wander.

I find myself staring at a black and white photograph near the back of the gallery. I can't look away from it, although I don't know why. The image is simple, but haunting, otherworldly. There's a river in the middle, with the far shore shrouded in mist. A solitary, bare tree stands in the foreground, on the near shore.

I frown at it distractedly, thinking.

"What do you see?" Henry speaks in a low voice just behind me. I jump and make an embarrassing almost-shriek.

"Don't _do _that," I say, shaking slightly.

Henry doesn't seem to mind my reaction, and he doesn't move. In fact, not-Henry is utterly still as he looks at the framed art. My back is pressed against his chest. I swallow. I can feel the hard buttons of his shirt against my flesh, through my dress. Henry's smell is so warm and comforting.

It really shouldn't be comforting, not at all..

"The photograph?" I ask. I am proud that my voice doesn't waver. "A river." I don't want to tell him what I really see. It's silly and overdramatic.

Henry looks down at me with a raised eyebrow. "Art is all about impressions, Isabella. So?"

I hesitate. I look at the photograph again. Surely it will remind me of something else this time.

He leans down, places his head beside my ear. Henry's chin is resting lightly on my shoulder. "You can tell me, Isabella," he whispers.

He's so close. "It looks like … a bridge to the underworld," I swallow. "Like … the River Styx." I can feel my face heat up in embarrassment. Am I really discussing the underworld with a vampire?

But Henry doesn't laugh. "Yes," he says. The palm of his hand brushes the back of my neck, almost idly, and his voice is musing. "If you cross, you'll be with Hades."

"Yes," I say.

He releases me. "You have a good eye, Isabella."

And then Henry is gone, stalking gracefully toward the front of the gallery. I can't help but stare after him. Belatedly, I realize: I haven't thought about Edward for almost half a day. How strange.

XXXXX

A/N: This one took a while, and I had to rewrite it to get it close to what I wanted. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and everyone who favorite and followed. It's good to see people reading. :) I'm sorry that I haven't replied to those who reviewed yet, I need to catch up. I do appreciate them all, though. :)


	10. A Family Meeting

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilightverse, even if I do like to pretend I live in Volterra. I'm not making money from this.

XXXXX

I've had vivid dreams since I was a little girl, and after Edward Cullen and his family left, I began having equally vivid nightmares. You could even call them night terrors, since I often woke up screaming, with a lingering feeling of sheer horror.

The weekend I met Henry, my nightmares had stopped, for which I was grateful. The only thing was, the nightmares were replaced with something … a little strange.

They were dreams, I suppose, but only because I didn't have another definition. They were definitely like none I'd ever had before. Even mine hadn't ever been this life-like. The colors were sharper that I'd ever experienced, the images clearer, and I could remember everything, every detail, when I woke up.

This isn't to say they were fantastical. In fact, the subject matter was always mundane. I'd been having several a night. They would change without warning, and were filled with people I knew having random conversations and completely ignoring me. I dreamed of Charlie doing paperwork at the station. Of the school secretary, Mrs. Cope, giving her toy poodle a bath after he'd encountered a skunk. I even dreamed of Mike begging Jessica—and I do mean begging, he was very whiney— to go to third base with him, and she agreed. That one was embarrassing. I don't know why I would want to dream that, ever.

And I do mean, _ever._

I knew that Charlie was happy I wasn't waking him up screaming anymore. And of course I was happier. I enjoyed these dreams, in a weird way (minus the Mike one, I saw way too much there). I had this sensation of knowing things, even if it was all in my head. I liked to know things, and was so often denied that knowledge.

So I guess pretending that I was 'in the know' was kind of nice for me, even if it was illusory. I just wished I knew what changed. Why I'd suddenly started to dream this way. Why it was so different from anything I'd ever experienced during sleep before.

I go to bed after my latest outing with Henry still pondering things. I need to keep reminding myself that not-Henry is leaving soon, so I didn't get attached.

_Good luck with that, Bella. We all know how good you are at avoiding emotional attachments to vampires._

I close my eyes, and finally sleep comes.

Each dream of mine starts the same. This night is no exception.

I hover above myself, looking down at my pajama-clad body. There are two of me, the me on the bed lying with her mouth slightly open and her arms tossed out, and then there's the me with my consciousness. That's where _I _am—The me that is me.

Yeah, I am saying there are two Bella in this scenario. There are definitely psych meds in my future; it's really only a matter of when.

My self has its (virtual?) back pressed up against what feels like a flexible rubber wall. I turn to look at it. The barrier is silvery and translucent, shimmering. It forms a sphere around the sleeping body-Bella and me like a pearlescent bubble. Slowly, I press a non-corporeal finger through the barrier. It resists at first, but I push harder, more deliberately, and it gives, folding around me, around my digit, my hand, and then the rest of me, releasing my consciousness and reforming behind me.

And then I am sucked away into the latest of my increasingly bizarre yet mundane dreams. I feel a happy sort of curiosity, wondering what my mind could possibly manufacture this time. I guess my imagination is kind of boring, since most of what I listen to and observe is kind of dull, but now, in the moment, I don't care.

Of course, I think that before I realize that, for the first time since I met Henry, I am dreaming of the Cullens.

I should have expected it. Why wouldn't I dream of them? Of course I would. The only wonder is, why I haven't already.

But it's not as if I choose this. This new dream will probably devolve into one of my old nightmares, now that they're involved, but what can I do? I have no idea how to end one of these dreams.

I just have to remind myself that they are imaginary, and I'll be fine. Right..

I hover near a corner of their home, although it's clearly not the house in Forks. My transparent, weightless self floats just below a high, wood-beamed ceiling. I stay where I am. I know not to try and do anything, because it never works. If I walk, I'll float. If I grab a doorknob, my hand will pass through. In these dreams of mine, I'm a ghost. I hover, I watch, I remember. That's all.

Why my brain chooses for me to be a powerless observer, I don't know. Maybe a psychiatrist could tell me, if I asked. And then they could prescribe something to make the pretty sparkly vampires go away.

I look around. The Cullens' home in this dream isn't as airy or modern as the old. The windows of this house are far smaller; the walls thicker. They look like they've been constructed of enormous logs. Outside the window, in the glow from the full moon, I can see some frost clinging to a bare tree branch. So much for them being in Los Angeles.

It is remarkable, how detailed my dreams are. I look down and can't help but be aamazed. The Cullen family seems so real to me now.

Dream-me isn't very emotional, and in this instance, that's good. Otherwise, I would probably be feeling all sorts of painful things. I've never been more grateful to feel detached from something as now. I look at them one by one. Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett …

Edward. My gaze lingers on him, of course.

He stands in a far corner in partial shadow. Despite the dim lighting, I can see that he doesn't look well at all. There are black, bruise-like circles under his eyes, darker than I've ever seen before. It's obvious he hasn't fed properly in quite some time. Edward's expression is blank, but his body language is impatient. I can tell that he's there under duress.

It looks like a family meeting. The rest of the Cullens seem worried, except for Rosalie, who looks irritated, Jasper, who looks furious, and Alice, who looks … broken. Blank, in a horrifying kind of way. She holds her head in her hands, shaking it slowly back and forth as if in denial. Jasper sits with her, one hand on her back. He is concentrating, so he's either keeping her calm or thinking hard about something. Or both.

I wonder what happened to Alice. I've never seen her this upset. I didn't think she could be. What a strange dream.

Jasper speaks. "You do realize they're fucking with our heads, Carlisle." His gaze is intense.

"Language, Jasper," Esme says, but her voice is flat, lacking conviction.

"I apologize, Esme, but Alice can't take much more of this."

Carlisle sighs. "We will solve this, Jasper. I promise. All of us want to … end this connection."

"He has to stop at some point," Emmett says. "I mean, how long has it been? No one can make continuous decisions forever." He grimaces, as if he already realizes the flaw in his reasoning.

"He's been going for over two days now. One choice after the other, each worse for us than the next. Do you have any idea what this is doing to her? Excuse me, Emmett, if I don't take it on fucking faith that a three thousand year old known sadist will get bored very quickly."

"Sorry. Just trying to help," Emmett mumbles.

"Caius is making a point right now." Jasper laughed shortly and without humor. "And enjoying it well, I'm sure."

_What is Jasper talking about? _I wonder. I've never heard him swear before. But then again, I hadn't really ever had a complete conversation with him. _I don't really know him at all._

Across from me, Edward's head twitches up. He frowns in my direction, then over at Carlisle.

"Jasper's right, Caius knows what he's doing to Alice, and he knows I'll see her visions." Edward closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, Alice."

My former best friend _doesn't respond_. Whatever she's seeing, it isn't pleasant. Her eyes are vacant.

"I wouldn't put it past Caius, certainly," Carlisle says carefully. "He's intelligent and ruthless enough to think of something like this." He pauses. "It is his style, so to speak."

"The real question is _why_, Carlisle. The Volturi don't act without reason. And it seems pretty clear that this centers on Edward."

"You think?" Edward speaks sarcastically, but he sounds … tired. "Because watching him decide to slice off my fingers and set them on fire really didn't clue me in to that, Jasper."

Esme stifles a sob. "Edward, please …"

"It's the mildest thing he's thought of so far, Esme," Edward says.

Oh my God. Someone is using Alice's visions to get to Edward? How is that possible? It can't be possible at all. I remind myself I'm dreaming,

Rosalie's voice is angrier than I've ever heard it. "This is serious. We're all accessories to this … _mistake_." She spits out the last word like a curse. "The Volturi have us on their radar. _All_ of us. And I won't say I told you so."

"We have no idea that's what this is about," Edward says.

"Please, we know exactly. It's about your complete failure to take responsibility—"

Carlisle holds up a hand, cutting her off. "Edward is right, Rose."

"Oh, that's a shocking statement," Rosalie says. Her voice is low, and laced with bitterness. "I never hear that one."

"Rosalie!" Esme says. "Please. This is hard on all of us."

Rosalie sighs and shakes her head. "I apologize for my tone. But I stand by what I said. Responsibility needed to be taken."

Carlisle runs a hand over his face, "I know we all want to help Alice and end this. The last day has been very disturbing, with the constant visions—"

"That's an understatement," Emmett mutters.

"—but let's reserve judgment for now. We just don't have enough information to know why Caius has taken such a," he paused delicately, "particular interest in Edward." Emmett snorts.

Jasper shakes his head. "Rosalie had a point. It's well-known that Caius doesn't move on a coven without the brothers' agreement. Is that not true?"

"From what I am aware, yes. But agreement still does not show cause."

"Do you know of another, besides the obvious? Anything at all?"

There's a short silence. Carlisle shakes his head reluctantly. "No. I do not."

Jasper nods, "Neither do I. Anyone else?"

None of the Cullens answer him. Edward looks at his feet.

I wonder what the 'obvious cause' is. I vaguely remember Edward mentioning the Volturi just before he left; he showed me that painting. There was a painting he showed me. That memory reminds me of something, an idea that I should remember. What is it? I focus back on the conversation. I've never seen the Cullens argue quite like this. They must be under extreme stress.

Jasper's talking, and to my surprise, I hear my name mentioned.

"If this is about Bella, then we have a serious problem on our hands, Carlisle. The Volturi love to play the complicit card."

"You think they'll go after all of us, too?" Emmett asks. "She was Edward's."

"It doesn't matter; we knew. One of us could have gone back and taken care of the problem, and we didn't." Jasper says. His voice is very matter-of-fact. "Killed her, turned her."

Edward growls, and Jasper ignores him. "Was it Edward's role? Yes. But he refused, and the law is crystal fucking clear."

"Profanity, Jasper."

"I'm sorry for my disrespect, Esme, but you see my mate here. And it's because we left a loose end. If we wanted her, she should have been turned."

_So that's what I am to this family now. A loose end. _I stare at Jasper. Across from me, Edward looks up with a puzzled expression. I consider Jasper's words. The law … now I understand. It's secrecy. I was left alive, knowing about vampires.

For the first time, I wonder: Is this really a dream? It has to be, and yet … I just don't see my mind coming up with this. This version of Jasper, this Caius they keep talking about … So much of it is new to me. How could I invent this?

Esme closes her eyes. "Surely they won't view it so seriously, Jasper."

Jasper mutters something in Spanish. I don't understand what he's saying, but I'm pretty sure he's swearing. He controls himself with a visible effort of will. "They will, Esme," he says. His voice is flat. "They've wanted Alice for decades. I've turned them down since I left Maria, and was damn lucky they let me. They want all of us. And that's not to even mention Edward, whose _cahones_ Caius has in a jar."

There's a silence.

"Literally," Emmett mutters. I wish I could laugh. _Trust Emmett to break the tension._

Alice moans quietly. "He's decided to come and take us. No … he's only taking Edward … they'll tear him apart … he's in the dungeon, no escape … Caius. No. Please, no. Don't … fire …"

Jasper closes his eyes in pain. "This has to end, Carlisle."

Carlisle sighs. "I've already tried to contact Volterra."

"Don't you have Caius' direct line?" Esme asks.

Carlisle's smile is wry. "He's sending my calls to voicemail."

"And Aro?"

Carlisle shakes his head. "It's their move."

Jasper speaks. The slightest hint of a southern accent enters his voice. "It's their whole entire game, Carlisle. No doubt the real attack will be after weeks of this bullshit." He glares over at Edward. "So, gracias brother. I'm sure my mate would thank you, too, but she's a little fucking busy at the moment."

"They had no way to learn about her," Emmett says. "None of this makes sense."

Rosalie shrugs. "Maybe she talked."

"She wouldn't," Esme says. "Not Bella."

"We ruined her life and left her alone. Why wouldn't she, Esme?"

Edward stares at the floor.. His voice is barely a whisper. "You know I couldn't, Rosalie. I just couldn't do it. She deserved better."

Rosalie sighs, deflating, and shakes her head. "I know, Edward. I know."

"The whole situation could have been handled better, we all agree, but that's in the past now," Carlisle says.

"Has anyone even thought of checking on Bella? Just a crazy idea from the sane family member, here." Emmett shakes his head at the silence that follows his words. "Right. Never mind."

_Maybe Emmett really did care about me, _ I thought. _Maybe I'm more than just a loose end, for him. _Across the room, Edward's head lifts quickly, and a frown creases his brow.

"Enough!" Carlisle says sharply. He glances at his oldest son, but Edward didn't acknowledge him; he us staring into the my corner. It's unnerving, almost as if he can see me.

_No one ever sees me, in these dreams_

"Edward, are you with us?" Esme asks. Her voice is anxious.

"Yes,"Edward says slowly. "I just … it's strange." He shakes his head. "I thought I heard ... No. Never mind."

Carlisle gives him a questioning look, then turns back to where Alice and Jasper sit huddled together. Jasper has an arm around his wife and his eyes closed, concentrating. "Alice, I know it's hard," Carlisle says, "but I think it might help if you could look at Bella for moment." He held up a hand for a moment. "Just to make sure she's safe and there's no connection between her and ... this situation."

Edward looks pained. "Alice, no," he says. "Please, Carlisle, don't ask her."

Alice looks back up at Edward. Her eyes are tortured. "I haven't, not once, you know that. And you know it's been killing me." Jasper glares at Edward. "I called her my sister," she whispers.

_This is just a dream. The real Alice is not saying this. This is imaginary, and I will wake up._

I am trying hard to believe myself. Edward's head shoots up, and he stares again. "Bella," he says. It's a whisper on a breath, but everyone hears it. They stare at him, all except Alice. They look at Edward, and then, with agonizing slowness, into the corner where I hover.

"It's too late." Alice says. "Too late for Bella." Her voice is tired, and she closes her eyes again.

"What do you mean, Alice?" Carlisle frowns.

"Her future is set …: Alice says. Her voice is barely audible. "With him."

"Who, Alice?" Carlisle asks. "Who do you see?"

Alice doesn't respond. She's lost again, deep in yet another awful, manufactured vision.

Her brother isn't listening, or he would have questioned Alice. I barely register her words, either. Edward is staring right at me, as if he can see what no one else can. I can't look away from him.

_It would just figure, if the one person I didn't want to see me, does. _I think. _It would be just my luck._

_This is only a dream. This isn't real. Is it?_

Edward winces. "It's her," he says. "Bella. She's here."

But he's wrong. Even as he says the words, I'm gone. I'm snapped back, through the ether and the bubble and into my bed. I'm wide awake, curled up and panting, breathless. I feel nauseated.

I was wrong, I realize, when I said the nightmares were gone. No, they're not gone; they've just taken a new form. Some nightmares are more subtle than others.

I calm down, finally, and my stomach settles. Still, sleep is a long time coming.

XXXXX

A/N: So resisting the urge to explain here. Hopefully, I made it clear enough in the story. I think?

At any rate, thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorite/followed the last chapter. That one had a strong response, which was kind of nice. It's great to see people reading. :)


	11. A Memory of Love Lost

A/N at end.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series, or the characters. I'm not making money from this.

XXXXX

Stefan, formerly of the Romanian coven, is a constant vampire. He has many other less-attractive qualities, it is certain. He is cunning and a wonderful liar. He's callous. However, in his loyalty, he cannot be faulted. Stefan's regard, once obtained, is steadfast. He maintains allegiance and affection regardless of time, circumstance, or political currents. He is loyal to his brother, Vladimir. He was faithful to his former (now destroyed) coven.

When Stefan loves, it is all-encompasing. When he hates, similarly, it is with obsession.

Stefan hates Aro Volturi with an intensity bordering on madness. It's almost as much as he loved Aro's wife, Sulpicia.

Both hatred and love—more specifically, the love of revenge—have brought Stefan to Portland, Oregon on this evening in particular. For Stefan's greatest enemy is here, alone, spending time with a human.

Stefan has tracked them from Forks with some difficulty. They appear to be on a trip together of some kind, although of which it is not clear. Nor is it obvious why this pair, a vampire and girl, would be travelling together. But Stefan is patient. He will find his answers, or at least enough of them.

Once he does, he will utterly destroy Aro Volturi.

If only he could erase Aro's name from the planet after he does it. How sweet that would be.

Stefan perches high in a tree, observing Aro and Isabella—the girl was well known in Forks, a local—impassively. Inside, he is a roiling mass of emotion. His mind moves in flashes from past to present at random; even he is not certain which is which any longer.

Nor does he care, particularly.

Stefan drops from the tree and trails the couple casually. His enemy seems oblivious. Beneath him, Aro and the human are walking along a strip of small shops. They pause, and Aro hands her an ice cream cone. The girl is blushing.

How much does sIsabella know? Stefan wonders. Does she think she is dating a man, or a vampire? And if she knows what he is, does she understand what that means, exactly, according to Aro Volturi?

Does she even know who he is, her companion? The wind direction changes, stirs the fliers on windows and ruffles the leaves of books on an outdoor melts back into a storefront just in time to avoid Aro's glance behind him. After a moment, he relaxes and so does Stefan. It's remarkable that he hasn't been caught, really. Where is Aro's guard? How could the brothers agree to leave him alone?

After the close call, Stefan retreats to the tree-line again. He wears black, and it perfectly matches the raven's wing color of his hair. Crouching, he's a dark spot in the evening sky behind the thickening spring foliage, an ill growth high up on the tree. Stefan can see perfectly well, even at this not-inconsiderable distance. He's always been a good hunter.

The wind is gusting up here, too, where he perches, and it whips Stefan's face and hair. It suits his turbulent emotions well. The vampire's memories assail him similarly. If he only makes an effort of will, he thinks that surely he can step into his past and relive it again.

Of course, it's insane. For he cannot bring her back, can he?

_She deserved better. He should have let her leave. Selfish, so selfish._

But when had Aro Volturi ever failed to be self-centered? It was a point that Sulpicia's sister had made quite cruelly clear to him, not two days before.

XXX

_Stefan would normally have been amused, both amused and outraged, to be meeting near the children's playground, at a park donated by the Italian vampires to the city of Volterra. The Volterra Historical Preservation Collective, the tasteful plaque on the bench says, and it is yet another example of Aro's desire to be known within his precious secrecy. Even he was not consistent—how could the rest of them be? _

_And yet, it was Aro who would rip off the heads of secrecy offenders. He was a hypocrite._

_But none of this matters now. It is not the inconsistencies in his enemy's doctrine that most concern Stefan today._

_Athenordora shifts uncomfortably on one of the many pristine park benches that overlook the playing human children. One of her hands clutches a large black umbrella, although the forecast does not call for rain. Stefan lets her squirm. He understands that she's keeping an dying promise, and he's certain that her husband is angry about it. _

_Under other circumstances, this would delight him. But not now. _

"_Did she suffer?" he asks her, very quietly. He's frozen in shock, and yet he's not surprised at all. He holds his fingers over venom-stung eyes. He knows he's losing his dignity before his enemy. He does not care._

_What is there to care about now?_

"_Probably," Athenodora answers finally. Her fingers pick nervously at her sundress and she looks anywhere but at him. At least she's being honest. He wishes she would not be so, would not have told him at all. He doesn't want to know anything, and yet he cannot stop listening. "I believe it was quick, in the end."_

_XXX_

Stefan looks down from the treetop into the distance. Aro truly does seem to be quite alone with the human girl. No one else, guard or otherwise, seems to be following the pair, and it's just so absurd. He feels a burning in his throat. He knows the girl must taste wonderful.

And yet, he waits, for surely it cannot be that simple. The last time he and his brother challenged the Volturi, Aro introduced him to the witch twins. He and his brother barely escaped. That lesson has made him more than cautious.

It makes no sense … Unless Aro's instincts got the better of him. Perhaps he wanted to keep her a secret from everyone, Stefan thinks, until she was his. The vampire has always been a bit of a hoarder of talent. If the girl has some great promise, perhaps …

Yes, Stefan considers, he could see that kind of covetousness in Aro. It's all too easy to picture.

Does Aro even care that his wife ended her existence? Stefan already knows the answer to that. Did the girl know of her vampire's wife, locked up in her tower? He knows the answer to that, too.

No, and no.

It had been warmer in Italy, at least.

XX

"_He made a promise never to harm her. He wouldn't break it." Athenodora's voice is firm as she tells him this. _

_It's probably even true, Stefan thinks. But he doubts it was ever that simple. For Aro Volturi, the world is a chess board, and Sulpicia was but one of the pieces. Not a pawn, perhaps, but certainly not the queen. _

_How it could have been different, if she had been with him instead. Stefan lingers on the thought. It's an old wound._

"_And that did not harm her? Keeping her locked away, denying her both an end and freedom?" His voice is bitter, grief-stricken. It's absurd that he's speaking to this vampire now, the wife of Caius. _

_Yet somehow, Athenodora does talk. She feels the need to argue with him. Perhaps she misses her sister. Perhaps it is guilt. _

"_She was insane," she says now." They had no choice but to contain it. You know how she was."_

_He knew. Sulpicia could have easily exposed them all with her mass killing sprees. But he never has been concerned about exposure. _

"_I don't care about the humans like Aro," the name is a curse. A small, twisted smile forms on the vampire's face. "How elated she must have been, to succeed. How furious he must be, knowing she thwarted him. It is almost enough to bring comfort."_

"_You hardly knew her." But her voice lacks conviction. She lived with Sulpicia for too long to not learn the truth, after all. And she is aware that Stefan knew her sister very well, indeed. Tower or no._

"_She was my other half," he says simply._

"_So you say. And yet she was so eager to leave. Every year."_

XX

It was true, of course. He had failed Sulpicia, just as he had his coven. They were all dead now, everyone except Vladimir, and all by the same hand. He had made so many promises that never came true. And he was failing his brother, now, but he cannot not, will not, stop himself.

Not this time.

Beneath him, at a long distance, Stefan sees Aro running a hand through the girl Isabella's hair and down her back. Yes, it is clear that there is something he wants from this child. Stefan watches. Even from this remove, he can see how her body is leaning into Aro's. How she responds to his touch.

Stefan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the air whipping around him. It's clean and cold and it calms him. He has a purpose. For Sulpicia, for his coven, he will destroy the one responsible for everything.

Stefan only hopes that his brother will forgive him.

XX

"_He lets the two of you live on sufferance. I wouldn't press that," she says. Her voice is steady and cold._

_Stefan laughs out loud. It's a bitter sound. "As if I have anything else to fear, sweet lady, now that she is gone. He squeezed my heart in his hand for so many years, his cruel insurance, and now she has died. He holds nothing over me now, nothing." His voice trails off. _

"_Not nothing."_

"_What more?"_

"_Vladimir."_

"_Ah." Stefan thinks of his brother, of how he doesn't feed, the way he stares out the window, always lost in thought, never talking. Of how the Volturi guard come and harass him, and even they can hardly get him to respond. _

_He's not sure even Vladimir is enough to keep him contained, anymore._

_His companion looks at him, then away. "She wasn't intended for this life, I think," she says quietly. It's a confession, the first unguarded moment he's seen from her. "I think she never wanted it. She did it for him. Do she tell you?" _

_She had. "Yes. He found her, the perfect little wife, did he not? Convinced her to become immortal, well," Stefan clucks his tongue, "we know how that turned out." He wonders if Aro ever loved her even a fraction as much as he had._

"_You would never have known her otherwise."_

"_And what would have been better, dearest Dora Volturi, hmm?" Stefan looks straight into her eyes now, and she's taken aback. He looks haunted. "I think, for myself, I would rather not have known."_

XX

He blinks. The light is gone now. It's dark. He's lost time—how much? He returns to the hunt, flowing easily from one tree to the next, recapturing the mingled scents of the human and vampire—ah, so Aro had marked her, Stefan notes—as he watches his quarry. Beneath him and down the street, they have exited a small restaurant and are walking together. Isabella is looking up at the Volturi vampire with an expression of wary awe, like she's trying not to be influenced and is failing. Aro is watching her with what seems like amused fondness. There's a veiled possessiveness and lust in his gaze that Stefan is sure that the girl does not see.

Aro wants to corrupt her. Stefan wonders why he is waiting. Why does Aro waste time with her as he is? Why does he not just turn her? It's clear that she is under his control. It's puzzling.

Is she a pet of some kind? No … that feels wrong. Stefan cocks his head in consideration. On the face of it, the idea he has is outlandish. But then he remembers what Athenodora said. Sulpicia was once a human girl with Aro, too.

And now Sulpicia is dead. Perhaps Aro has more of a plan for the human than Stefan had considered.

He closes his eyes against the sting of venom before regarding Isabella again. She seems a pale imitation to Stefan, but then again, she is still human. When he met Sulpicia, she was already a vampire.

Still, he is sure that Sulpicia was far more beautiful than this awkward child. And against all logic, he resents her.

Stefan continues to watch, disgusted, as the girl laughs at something her vampire companion says. He can only assume that Aro means to turn this child eventually.

It's a terrible risk, Stefan reflects, to wait like this. Isabella is so vulnerable in her present form. How upset Aro would be, if she were destroyed instead. If this special project were lost forever.

He hums in thought. How badly he wants to tear apart Aro Volturi and scatter his ashes. And yet … to take something from him, something he cares about, to watch … Stefan closes his eyes and considers this carefully.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he can do both?

But it doesn't matter. Stefan is a constant vampire. He will make Aro pay for what he has done.

One way or another.

Soon, he consoles himself. Very soon.

XXXXX

A/N: This one took a while, a couple of rewrites. I guess it just works out that way sometimes. I did (obviously) make up the whole star-crossed romance thing between Sulpicia and Stefan. I tried to work it into the canon blank spaces. Hopefully I succeeded somewhat there.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed from the last chapter. It's so fun to get comments. :) I need to catch up on my responses, but I do appreciate them all very much!


	12. An Interrupted Moment

A/N at end. Note the rating change … very minor in this chapter, more so in upcoming.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series. I'm not making money from this.

XXXXX

So a teenager has a sleepover with a vampire …

It sounds like the first line of a joke, but no. This is my reality at the moment, as I find myself in Portland with my unlikely friend, the vampire formerly known as Henry. I've agreed to come with him on this trip south, which is to be a longer one. And which is to involve overnight accommodations.

It goes without saying that I'm nervous. I have no idea what's happening here. I'm attracted to Henry; we've come to be friends. He clearly wants me to trust him, since he asks me if I do all the time.

He seems so curiously intent on that, me trusting him. I have no idea why that is.

I've managed to avoid saying I don't, so far. The truth is, I may be too damaged for trust. I don't know if I can trust any vampire, ever again. How could I believe in someone who could hurt me in so many ways, so easily?

I did, with Edward. Thinking his name now doesn't hurt as badly. But when it happened, he nearly killed me. When we got involved, I didn't really understand what kind of pain losing him could bring. How it would feel to have someone I loved walk away like only a vampire can, to a completely new life.

I'm not sure that knowledge would have mattered, in the beginning. But this time, it does.

I sense that if Edward could destroy me, it's still nothing to the kind of pain that Henry could cause.

So when this vampire asks if I trust him, I smile. I hedge. I change the subject. Because to do otherwise would give him far too much power. And I may have been naïve, I may have lost myself in love, once. But I am not stupid.

Except, possibly, for the fact I'm staying overnight with a vampire.

Henry didn't change expression when he told me his plans. It's probably no big deal. I'm probably over-reacting. Maybe Henry—who never needs to sleep and never, ever gets tired—just didn't want to do the drive twice in one day.

_Sure. You just keep telling yourself that, Bella Swan. And think about a river in Egypt, while you're at it._

It doesn't help my mental argument that when Henry told me, I could see his lips twitch at my reaction. Bastard.

Whatever Henry's motives are, I doubt an overnighter with him will involve pillow fights and painting each other's fingernails with glitter polish.

Although, honestly, I would like to braid his hair. Run it through my palms. It looks so silky.

(Please refer to my previous thoughts, where I discuss, logically and coherently, the problems with being attracted to the untrustworthy undead. Moving on.)

I do have one thing on my side. I haven't told Henry about my dreams. I don't want to share them. Not just yet. If I'm wrong, then I'll come across as unstable. If I'm right … well.

If I'm right, I'm able to spy on people, in my sleep. And after last night's dream, I'm reluctant to give up such an advantage.

XX

_It starts like the others, with the shimmery silver bubble, so I know this isn't a regular dream. Henry sits in a wingback chair. I can't tell if this is a hotel, but it looks more like an expensively-decorated residence, all dark gleaming woods and framed, well-lit art. There's a young girl, a vampire turned at maybe thirteen, and she kneels with her head in Henry's lap. Despite the position, there's nothing remotely sexual about it; it seems somehow more paternal. Her cheek is on his thigh, her face points outward toward the wall. Her eyes are closed. Unlike the tween she looks like, the girl vampire is dressed in an obviously expensive, conservative skirt suit. Henry is stroking her long, loose hair._

_Henry looks different that I've ever seen him. His suit jacket is gone, and two buttons of his shirt are open. A heavy-looking pendant hangs on his chest. Has it been there before, under his clothes? It looks expensive, a stylized "V," and it's embedded with what look like rubies. I wonder if it is a family crest of some kind, or something else._

"_Shh Jane, not much longer now. I promise," Henry says. He has a small smile on his face. He looks peaceful, untouchable. I stare at him. The affection in his voice for this girl is so clear. He loves her. Not a romantic love, but they are attached. Jane, he said. Who is she?_

"_I worry you will be in danger, Master," Jane whispers. "We are not as close as we should be." Her eyes are large, bright red, and vulnerable looking. The color is a little shocking after several days of seeing Henry with grey-blue tinted glasses._

_I wish I knew what their relationship is. Is 'Master' a vampire form of address I don't know? I've never heard Carlisle called that, but maybe older covens address their heads more formally? I wonder again who this small vampire is. _

_There's a brief knock and another vampire—a boy turned young like Jane—walks into the room. _

"_Alec," Henry greets. Jane gets up and sits in a chair beside Henry. _

_Alec asks, "Master. Sister. Has _Eleazar_ arrived?"_

"_He's on his way. She will meet him tomorrow." Henry sighs. "I wish he had different eyes. These abstainers cause me nothing but headaches."_

_Jane looks up at the boy. "She must be a shield, Alec." She sounds excited. "Will she take Renata's place, Master? Do you think Eleazar will be able to sense her?"_

"_Patience, Jane. That remains to be seen. I have special plans, regardless." Henry looks at Alec. "We will need to leave soon. My brother grows insufferable." He sighs. "I should never have let him begin with the seer, but, I confess … I let my outrage get the better of me."_

_Jane smiles at Henry. She looks so young and innocent. "Can I work on him when they come, Master?"_

"_No, Jane. If we do anything further, there will be cause." Henry's voice is gentle, but stern. "I owe that much to Carlisle." He looks at Alec. "Make sure everything is prepared. I'm not certain how much longer it will be."_

_Alec bows his head. "Should I make arrangements for human travel, or procure medical documents for customs?" _

_XX_

I never hear the answer, because once again I am snapped back, and I find myself on my bed, awake with a wildly racing heart.

Just like the last dream, this one leaves me with more questions than answers. I'm also left wondering, once again: am I crazy? Are these dreams real? I want to believe that they are; my intuition tells me that what I am seeing is reality. But I don't have any proof. On the face of it, why would I suddenly start having true dreams now? I'm no vampire, to have some special gift. I'm a normal, unremarkable human.

I try to put it, and all of my questions, out of my mind as I go back to sleep.

The next day comes, and with it, the trip to Portland.

Charlie is still being ridiculously understanding about Henry. Upon hearing about our road trip, he just asks if I will have my own hotel room. I tell him I will. In order not to be lying, I promise myself that I will ask for one.

But surely Henry will reserve two rooms. I don't need to worry.

After all, I do want my own sleeping space. Right?

XX

The ride to Portland is over four hours, but it passes quickly. Soon, Henry and I are walking through an area of small stores that sell artsy items like hand-woven fabrics, art ceramics, and hand-crafted jewelry. There have been a few small galleries, but Henry didn't seem as interested as before.

No, this trip is clearly for pleasure, and Henry's focus is clearly on me. It's making me deeply nervous. It doesn't help that he can't seem to stop touching me. He always seems to have a hand on my arm, my shoulder, my back. He strokes my hair. And he walks in my personal space.

I don't say anything about it, though. I tell myself it doesn't matter, but the truth is, I don't want him to back away.

The people that pass us in this part of the city are mostly wearing relaxed, casual dress. Henry stands out in his pristine black tailored suit. It hugs his hips and shoulders and his hair spills down his back. He couldn't look more different if he tried. Henry doesn't mind, though. My vampire companion smiles widely as we walk, looking for all the world as if he's thrilled that he's here.

"Henry?"

"Yes, la mia Bella?" He thinks this is amusing, and he says it a lot for the same reason that he uses Isabella—because it annoys me. But at least this is one thing I have managed to get out of him. Henry lives in Italy, has for a very long time.

Of course, he won't say exactly how long. Or precisely where.

I have to wonder, it part of the change that all male vampires become uber-controlling?

Wait, Alice. Scratch that. All vampires, period.

I try again between two shops, looking at him sideways as though I don't care about my question. "How old are you? You never said."

"No, I didn't, did I? Clever Isabella." My full name rolls off his tongue, musical and very slightly mocking.

I huff. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated, _Henry_." I emphasize his name (the real version of which, I still do not know—see above under 'controlling').

Henry ignores this, of course. He leans closer and breathes in what I can only imagine is my scent, although whether it's blood, body wash, or both I have no idea. "Mmm," Henry says, eyeing me. "What a delicious shade of red your cheeks become when you're irritated with me."

"That explains most of your behavior." I stop where the space between two buildings forms a narrow walkway.

Henry steps forward deliberately, and smiles. For some reason, that smile makes me uneasy, and I back up. My back hits the brick of the building.

Henry's still smiling. He steps forward again. This time, I have nowhere to go.

"Honestly, bella mia?" Henry whispers. "I feel I have been a perfectly well behaved." He is so close now. I can feel his breath on my neck, and I shudder.

"Vampires don't need to breathe." I gasp. "You're doing that on purpose."

Henry rests his lips on my skin, and it feels like there's a pull deep underneath where he touches, like something is calling to his lips. I can feel him smiling. "As you say." He shifts even closer. I can feel his trouser legs through my thin tights.

And oh fucking fuckery … I can feel all of him. Every single part of him is rigid. My legs are trembling. I rest my palm on the brick on the inside of the walkway.

"Do you object?" Henry says. He breathes again, lightly, and shifts himself even closer so he's wedged in between my legs. How the hell did that even happen? And we're no longer at the entrance to the alley, but half-way down it.

My breath is erratic. I should say something … I can't.

"To what." I ask, but I have forgotten the original question. This is so not good. I swallow and look at his lips, lick my own. "You're crossing a line." Oh, that so did not sound nearly firm enough.

"Yes." Henry looks places his fingers against my cheek, his thumb under my chin "Guilty." His smile widens as he looks down at me. I will never understand this vampire. "How will you punish me, Isabella?"

"Henry—" I am interrupted by the buzzing of Henry's phone. Not moving from me, he looks at it and his expression freezes, closes and becomes blank. All signs of pleasure are gone. I watch as he drops away. Moves back.

He was cold against me, but somehow, I feel colder from his absence.

And then it's over. Somehow, we're walking again, and Henry's acting completely normal, as if nothing at all happened. Me, however, I'm not so fine. But I'll be damned if I let him know what he's done to me.

No, I'm not going to make it so easy, I tell myself. Not this time. _Denial … _

I force myself to act normally. Calm my breath, calm my heart. It takes a while. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes." Henry's voice is pleasant, nothing more. "Some unpleasant news. It will be nothing, soon enough." He reaches into his inner suit pocket and retrieves his cell phone again, sends a text message. He does it without even looking at the keys.

And then the phone is gone, and we're shopping once more. Henry never tells me what it is that bothered him, and I let it go.

XXXXX

A/N: Okay, first. The rating is going to an M … a soft M, for now, but things are building and I don't want to worry about what I'm writing. Mainly it's just me being careful. If there's anyone out there who would like a T-ish version, let me know and I'll send the upcoming chapters as I post them. I don't want to leave anyone hanging because of a ratings change.

I think Portland is going to be a three-parter. I wanted to wait and post it all together, but it's gotten unwieldy because so much happens. That said, the next one is already written, so the next update should take less time. Hopefully.

Thanks for your patience, everyone who was waiting. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favirited/followed from the last chapters, also. It is very appreciated. :)


	13. A Finder of Gifts

A/N at end.

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Twilight, and am not making money from this.

XXXXX

Eleazar Denali has been working for the Volturi for over three hundred years. The assignment he's at now is just one in a long string, although the fact that Aro is here personally is noteworthy.

He's been summoned, of course. Eleazar doesn't want to be here, be involved. Aside from the connection he has with the Cullens—currently on their way to Volterra, and so very likely to lose their freedom, if not their heads—evaluating people has always made him uncomfortable.

For he knows what happens to those not gifted.

The place he has been called to is … unpleasant. Eleazar had forgotten how human restaurants stink to vampires, but now he is reminded. Inside, he has to brace himself against the smell. Human food, alcohol, body odors. Why did human women wear so much perfume? Surely even they could smell that? And garlic …The smell is revolting. It's not toxic to his kind but it does reek.

He takes a position in a shadow at the far corner of the bar, orders a drink he will not consume. Finally, he turns to look at the table across the restaurant, at which sits his former master, Aro.

He's with a human.

_So this is the girl who has caused so much drama,_ Eleazar thinks. _Made the Cullens move early, made young Edward so depressed. She is attractive. For a mortal. _

He's heard the whole story, of course. He lives with several women, at least one of whom has had their eye on conquering the virgin ground that is Edward Cullen. He's somewhat of a competition among them, at times. It follows that Eleazar has heard every detail the sisters could wring out of Esme and Rosalie.

What he's heard has been heavy in drama. Existential angst versus hard reality. Edward is very young, and very stubborn. He's brought his family down with him.

But then again, Carlisle allowed it.

Eleazar sighs. Yes, he acknowledges, the girl is pretty. Her hair is dark, and she's extremely pale for a human that he has to wonder if she's anemic. At this distance, she has a vulnerable kind of beauty. Ethereal, in a way.

But it's not her appearance that has caused all of the excitement, that brought Aro Volturi to see for himself It is especially interesting to Eleazar that both of the mind-readers he knows have become so intrigued.

It all points to her being a shield.

The bartender leans in too closely to him, and, all at once, the smell of the humans inside the restaurant is overwhelming. Eleazar has to step outside before he drinks his first human in many, many years before the eyes of the Volturi.

The air is so much cleaner outside. He doesn't need to breathe, but he does to clear his system. Eleazar has to wonder if Aro did this on purpose, setting up the meeting so close to this many humans. He's a devil that way, with everything serving two purposes.

Eleazar takes a moment before going back inside to look around and gather himself. The evening has fallen. The building is on a hill and the city lights are spread out beneath him. In the distance the white, snow-covered peak of Mount Hood shines in the darkness like an untouchable Olympus.

There are bobcat near the mountain, he thinks. He promises himself as many as he can find, as soon as he is done. Slowly, he can feel his bloodlust subsiding.

He goes inside—this time, holding his breath—and resumes his former position. Pretends to sip his untouched drink.

Beside Eleazar, a young man sits. He orders a Coke from the bartender. He looks too young to drink anything harder.

"Eleazar," he says.

"Alec."

They subside into silence, although Eleazar can see Alec watching him. For some reason his gift has always fascinated the twin. The feeling is not mutual.

"I hear Caius collected a hall of small animals, just for your cousins' visit," Alec says pleasantly, by way of conversation. "Ferrets and exotic rodents. Pigeons."

Eleazar gives him a sideways look and says nothing. Aro would never allow it, he knows. He thinks. But eating from rodents is the least of the Cullen's problems at the moment. He ignores Alec's comments..

"You've out of Italy a while."

Alec purses his lips and says nothing. "I hope it's worth it," he mutters.

Across the restaurant, Aro glances over. Bella follows his look, but both vampires know she won't be able to see them, sitting in shadow across the room.

"How's consulting?" Alec's lips twitch. Aro thinks it's amusing to use modern terms like that. Eleazar hates the term, it's slightly mocking in that sly way the brothers have. There is no true retirement from the Volturi, of course. One can be a guest and leave, like Carlisle, but a guard is for life.

"It allows me to remain with my mate and coven," Eleazar says neutrally. He mentally adds, _In peace. _

"You're very fortunate," Alec says. His voice is calculating. "Your gift is unique. Sometimes I wonder how many of our feedings are on gifted humans, since you left."

Eleazar keeps his face blank. He'd like to rip off Alec's arm for the comment, slap him with it a few times. The act of finding abilities in the groups they fed upon … Eleazar wonders sometimes if that alone didn't turn him into a vegetarian. The randomness of who would die, and who would be pulled away and turned ... he still thinks of it sometimes.

Eleazar changes the subject. It doesn't do to dwell on differences. "Where is Jane?" he asks. The twins dislike working separately.

"Watching someone watching the Master." Alec smiles, and it's not a nice expression. "A temporary issue."

"Just observing? Is that wise?"

"Master Aro calls it a test of her restraint."

Eleazar represses his amusement. Jane isn't known for her self-control.

He turns his eyes back to his job. The girl. He lets himself take in the whole scene first. The girl with Aro at the table, the people around. He senses Alec watching him closely.

After a moment, Eleazar stiffens.

"Ah," Alec says softly. "You see it, too."

Eleazar just nods. He does … and is disturbed. He just wishes he knew why.

Across the room, the girl is eating pasta and drinking wine. Aro sits back watching her, his face outwardly placid. His expression is like any of the many hundreds, perhaps thousands of times that Eleazar has watched Aro sit in judgment. His hands are clasped together in a familiar posture, his head slightly cocked.

What is it that bothers him so? Eleazar frowns, puzzled.

"His eyes," Alec says, very quietly indeed. "Look."

He does. And swallows at the intensity of Aro's gaze. The Master's eyes are blazing. Eleazar is grateful that look is not focused on him.

"The last time I saw him this worked up, we were slaughtering the Romanian coven," Alec says.

Eleazar takes that in, still reeling. "He's not angry." No human would inspire such fury, surely?

"No," Alec confirms. There's a silence as they both consider this. It's always a little awkward, talking about Aro, when they both know he'll see it later. Now it is especially so.

Abruptly, Alec says,"She calls him Henry, you know."

Eleazar's eyes widen with incomprehension, and he blinks. "He tolerates this?"

Alec laughs. "She doesn't know who he is."

Eleazar feels lost, like he's missed a crucial piece of information, somewhere. _Is this girl's potential talent that important, that it would actually arouse such passion_? Why would he act like this? _If I didn't know better, I would think … _

_Impossible._

_Is it? Sulpicia is dead._

Eleazar shakes off these thoughts, forgets his awareness of Alec observing him. None of this matters, and he's better off not knowing. He has a job to do.

With that, he summons his gift. He hopes that he finds something. The only way out for Isabella Swan now is death, of one type or the other.

It's his responsibility to determine which kind.

Eleazar looks deeply at the girl, seeing her and yet not looking at her body at all. His eyes are on her essence. For the lack of a better word, her soul. He smiles abstractedly. The girl is still human, so even the priests of his childhood would feel comfortable using this term. They would not like that he uses it for vampires, as well.

Unlike Edward, he does believe that everyone has one. Even the undead.

What Eleazar sees makes his black eyebrows raise into his hairline. _This is new_.

"What do you see?" Alec asks. "Does she have a gift?"

Normally, Eleazar would ignore this question, as he reports to the Masters. This time, he's caught off-guard. "She's not normal," he says.

"I knew that already," Alec says. His voice is dry.

Eleazar hums. The girl is in the middle of a shining, sphere … it's beautiful. Silver and white, like an otherworldly pearl. "She's definitely a shield," he says. "but not the usual. Not at all."

"Explain."

Alec needs to watch his tone, but Eleazar is too entranced to bother. "It's not latent. She's _using_ her power. Somehow. She has partial control." He shakes his head in amazement. "A human."

For once, Alec has nothing to say. He stares over at her, genuinely astonished, and Eleazar understands why. Alec and his sister showed signs before they were turned, but to his knowledge, they were the last known to do so.

Eleazar continues looking at the girl's shield, fascinated. It's in constant movement, swirling in steams of glittery shimmer. The last human shield he met, Renata, has only the faintest traces of power around her, and that only because she'd been so battered around in her human life.

_How on Earth has this girl grown to be so strong? Does she know? _

Eleazar probes at the bubble and frowns. The girl's barrier is blocking him. He presses again. The girl shifts uncomfortably. Aro glares, but Eleazar barely notices.

_She feels it. Amazing._

"She's powerful." Eleazar is absorbed utterly. He's forgotten the stink of the place around him, the smell of the humans. "Based on the feel, she's a mental shield." He shakes his head. "She's blocked me again." The shield bubble disappears from his vision, and Eleazar feels nothing. He nearly grins.

"You seem … pleased," Alec says. His tone is puzzled.

"It's been a while since I had a challenge."

_Is this how Aro and Edward feel, being unable to read the girl?_ _No wonder … she's the ultimate uncharted territory._

Eleazar concentrates harder, for Aro will assuredly want more. _He _wants more. He stares at the girl and unfocuses his eyes, peering at the edges around her until the shield pops once more into view. He holds the view with an effort of will. And then, with a mental tendril, he slips inside, _feeling_, just for a moment, before he is ejected.

Across the room, the girl cries out, then subsides. Once again, Aro stares over. Eleazar makes a motion that he's done, and the other vampires subsides.

Eleazar considers what he's seen. It's different than what he expected in a shield. It's turned partially inward, twisted slightly, attached to her. Not simply covering.

_What happened to her, that she would need something like this? Was it Edward? By all accounts, she loved him._

"She'll manifest differently than the normal shield," he says finally.

"Is it a personal shield?"

"It's impossible to say now," Eleazar says. "It could go either way once she's turned." He knows that even a personal shield would be of use, so he feels comfortable saying this. "But she will manifest something other than just that." He frowns as, for just a moment, the shield disappears from his view. "Something … of concealment."

He blinks, clearing his vision.

"Interesting," Alec says.

Eleazar nods, and they look back over at the table. Aro has a finger pressed against the girl's lips, and their eyes are locked. The two vampires across the room look away.

"I suspect he'll be pleased," Alec says. His tone is dry.

"Yes." There's nothing else to say. It's all too clear that the girl will be turned, one way or the other.

_Edward is not going to take this well_.

XXXXX

A/N: So saying something will be sooner … yeah, not so much. Life and all that. Anyway, the pivotal scenes are coming soon. I think. This is more of a set up chapter, but I thought it served a purpose. Interested to know what people think of Eleazar, I don't think he's shown a lot in fanfiction (maybe he is and I just haven't noticed?)

Someone asked if I was going to make Bella some kind of Superpire, more powerful than any other vampire, ever, able to drain tall humans in a single ... you get the idea. Without spoilers, not so much.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed / favorite / followed on the last chapter, I read every one and it is appreciated. :)


	14. A Declaration

Just a reminder that about the ratings change … okay, that's done.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I'm not making money from this.

XXXXX

Henry's been acting strange since we left the restaurant, and, let's face it, for him that's saying something. He seems almost angry at me, and I have no idea why.

We're in the car on our way to the hotel. I'm sneaking looks at him, wondering if I should irritate an already disturbed vampire. But when have I ever been into self-preservation? "Are you okay?"

Henry glances over, and for a moment, I see the same intense expression he wore earlier, the one where I didn't know whether he was about to bite me and drain me or rip off my clothes. Hard, staring eyes, slightly parted lips. I can feel my own expression mirroring his, although for different reasons..

_Maybe he wants to do both._

My last vampire/human relationship never really progressed beyond closed-mouth kissing. The idea of being in that situation with Henry is infinitely more dangerous. I have a fair certainty that it would be very different from being with Edward.

I think of the hotel, and wonder if something will happen between us before Henry leaves. Do I want it to?

I think of him going home, and feel sick. Why does the idea bother me so much? After all, I never thought he would stay. Surely I don't have feelings for him?

I try and dismiss the idea. If I do feel something, it must be because I'm broken, and it happened to be another vampire that did the honors.

I watch this vampire drive. Henry's hands are clad in black leather driving gloves. They grip the steering wheel so tightly that I hear the metal complain. "Yes," he says. "I am, as you say, _okay_. But it's time, my dear Isabella, that we had a talk."

…

Talk.

I swallow and blink, look away.

_Come for a walk with me._

The lights of the expressway are blurring by through the unshed water in my eyes. I promise myself I won't cry this time. I won't let him know. I won't chase after him, like I did with Edward.

_Oh, Bella, you are a stupid human. The silliest girl in the whole world, who thinks the vampires won't leave._

My hand touches the glass of the window. I feel the coldness against my pads of my fingers.

Cold like Edward was. And Henry. And all of them. The mocking voice inside my head continues.

_No, Bella, they won't leave, of course they won't._

… _until, of course, they do._

_They always do._

I won't cry. But it's funny how, once again, somehow, I wasn't prepared. Henry looks over, and his eyes widen. "No, no … you have the wrong idea, Isabella," he says. "Nothing like that_,_ I promise."

I stare at my lap. "You're not leaving?" My voice is a whisper.

_Pathetic,_

_Stop it._

Henry purses his lips. His eyes are fixed on the road. "Eventually I need to go to my home, yes. I have responsibilities and my coven is waiting. But ... I won't leave you without your permission, Isabella."

I exhale a shuddering breath I didn't know I was holding over an anxiety I didn't know I had. He won't just disappear.

He promised.

How is it that I believe him? I don't know. But I do.

XXX

The hotel is a mid-sized, nondescript building tucked into the middle of a block in the center of town. Inside, it has a hushed, old-money kind of feel, or what I would imagine that would be, given I've never experienced it before. There's a front desk clerk, but there's none of the customary welcome chatter that I'm used to, No talk of when breakfast will be served or on which level the pool can be found and between what times the gym might be open.

No, this hotel, whatever it is, clearly is not the Hilton. Henry ghosts up, the human takes one look at hum, and does the following: gives him a nod that's really more of a bow, glances for an infinitesimal moment at me, and murmurs something in Italian that sounds an awful lot like groveling. Henry doesn't seem to notice.

We continue on our way through the small lobby to wait for the elevator, standing side by side. I watch the indictor, an old-fashioned dial, work its way down the numbers.

"It almost seemed like he knew," I whisper, nodding toward the clerk.

Henry doesn't lower his voice. "He does."

I stare at him, astonished. "How?"

"This place caters to … our kind." He smiles without humor. "Certain of us, anyway."

"Oh." I can see how having accommodations away from the mortal masses might be a good idea for a vampire. "But why have a human working here?"

"He was involved with a vampire who died before she could turn him." Henry sighs. "This touches on what we need to discuss, _bella mia_."

I decide to change the subject. "I wonder who owns something like this," I say, looking around.

The elevator doors open. "I do," Henry says, without looking at me, and he glides into the elevator.

At a loss for words, I follow.

The elevator music is classical, and thank goodness not piano. I'm hyper-aware of Henry here, now, and of the fact that we're in a windowless box alone, together. He smells amazing, and his suit leg is touching my skin, again. I close my eyes and swallow, thinking of the alleyway.

I can feel my heightened awareness of him, of his bearing, his tension next to me. I lick my lips nervously.

And then, suddenly, violently, the elevator lurches to a stop. Henry turns to me from the control pad, and the look in his eyes …. It's the same as before.

Predatpry. Black.

Oh. Oh God.

Henry's eyes lock on mine, his expression filled with naked need, as if he wants nothing more now than to consume me utterly. Maybe he does. He could, I know, drain me dry right here, and I could do nothing. Would do nothing.

I can feel my pulse pounding in my throat, between my legs. My eyes are locked on his as he moves one pace closer.

I'm motionless, staring up at him.

And then, without warning, I'm spun around. My chest is shoved against the side of the elevator, and Henry is pressed, cold against my back. I feel his breath in my ear.

"I cannot help myself, Isabella," he says in a fierce whisper. "I know I should wait, I know …"

"What—" I am abruptly cut off from my whispered question, because suddenly my lips are occupied, His hand holds the back of my head as he ruthlessly claims my mouth. My neck is craned to the side as I twist to meet him, but I don't care.

His kiss is hungry, demanding, feral.

I am lost.

One of his suit-clad legs slides between mine, pushes up, and I'm nearly on my toes in Alice's high heeled shoes. Henry's pants leg is pressed roughly against my core, one of his hands is still holding the back of my neck, and he's plundering my mouth.

He breaks the kiss abruptly. "I need … I must …" he hisses. His other hand slides up from my waist and into my wrap-around dress, across my torso, trailing cold electric heat upward as he pushes aside the lace of my bra to cup my breast.

Henry takes my lips again, like that, his fingers draped around my nipple, twisting and tugging, gently scraping as I am trapped, straddling his leg. I should complain, I know, but all I want is more. More of this, more of him.

I've forgotten that I'm hanging in a box between floors in a vampire hotel; I've forgetten everything.

Henry's other hand moves downward. I feel the light brush of his nails, the pads of his fingers. His hand feathers over my leg, up my thigh, and hikes up the side of my dress, I shiver, teetering on my heels. I couldn't stop him if I wanted. And I do not want to make him stop.

"I will never leave you, Isabella," he whisper-croons into my ear. "Never. You are mine, now."

Then his hand is up my dress, against my stomach, travelling downward again. I gasp in shock as I feel his fingers push into my underwear,

I should stop him, but oh God … he's moving against me. His leg against me in counterpoint with his fingers. Sliding. Grinding.

He kisses me again, fiercely, as I am trapped there, writhing against him.

"Let go," he says. His voice is ragged "Let me hear you, my Bella."

I can only gasp. My whole world is his scent and his clever, talented hands. I am making noises I don't recognize.

And then I'm falling, flying, tearing apart. Screaming.

"Mine, Isabella" I hear him whisper. "Mine."

XXX

I come to myself draped on a couch in a large, elegant suite. Henry's in a chair, watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. Once again, he 'looks calm and distant, as if nothing whatsoever has happened between us.

My dress is closed, but I know from the state I am in that I didn't dream what just happened. I'm a mess. Figuratively and literally.

"Hello Isabella," Henry says quietly. "I trust you slept well?"

I can only nod. I don't remember falling asleep at all. I remember separating, him smoothing down my clothes, pulling away. I remember taking his arm, and that my legs were shaking.

"Yes," I say uncertainly. "I guess."

Henry insists I get settled in before we talk. Could he not have scheduled this before the mind-blowing … whatever that was?

Evidently not.

I can only agree with his terms. He's so unruffled, while my world has flown off its track completely. I have no point of reference for what this is, for what just happened. So I stand on my now-sturdier legs and make my way across the suite to what is to be my space for the evening.

And yes, it turns out, I do have my own room. Somehow, this isn't quite as reassuring now as it was before we arrived.

I go to the bathroom, clean myself off. I send a text to Charlie to tell him I'm fine here. I consider putting on clothes that cover every single piece of my body from neck to ankles. I resist the urge.

_Calm. I am calm._

I go back to the main room, and Henry asks that I eat, before we do any of this talking. Vampires seem to believe in the healing power of food that they themselves will never consume. I don't bother arguing. Controlling equals vampire, and the reverse is also true.

At Henry's insistence, I swallow a few bites of room service, all I can manage, before at last we will talk. We settle into two plush armchairs. I sink into mine; Henry's posture remains perfect as always. It's as if I've imagined the unhinged vampire in the elevator; he may as well have never existed.

I am in so far over my head here.

"What do you know about our laws, Isabella?" Henry asks. His voice is soft, almost dreamy, and his hands rest loosely on the armrests of his chair. He looks almost regal, I think.

I have to gather my thoughts. It takes an effort of will. "I remember Edward telling me that there were only a few," I say slowly. The memories from that time are all wrapped up in other things that happened toward the end of our relationship. "He said there was only one regularly enforced."

"Did he say which one?"

"Secrecy," I whisper. "That humans must never know." My stomach twists. I'm all too aware what I've just said.

Henry removed his glasses when we entered the hotel, and his eyes are so startlingly red as they look into mine. "Tell me everything else he said to you, Isabella." His voice has never been more serious. He holds up a hand to forestall my questions. "It is important to leave out nothing. Do you understand?"

I nod mutely. "He mentioned a group of vampires that enforce the laws, and," I remember suddenly, "he said that if he wanted to end himself, that he would go to them." How horrified I was, when he had said those words to me.

Henry looks thoughtful. "Interesting. Did he mention anything else about those vampires?"

"He said they were called the …" I have to think for a moment. "The Volturi." I frown. "Why are you—"

Henry hushes me again. "Patience, Isabella. I will get there, I promise. Tell me the rest."

I sigh. My memories of those last days are slightly hazy, hard to access. But I do remember some more. "He showed me a picture in Carlisle's study." I blink, struggling to recall everything. There's something there … what is it? "It was amazing, really. Frightening."

"Isabella, do you remember the painting at all?" Henry's eyes are wide, locked on mine.

I lick my lips and close my eyes, trying to picture it. "There were four vampires on a balcony over a crowd of people, and they looked … frightening."

"How so?" His voice is a whisper.

My eyes are still closed. "They just looked … powerful and contemptuous, almost. Like the humans below were less than nothing, beneath them. I remember thinking it was a strange painting for Carlisle to treasure."

Now Henry looks deep in thought. I wish I knew what about what.

"Anything else?"

I grimace. I can't remember the faces of the vampires; I'm better at remembering facts. "I remember their names. Marcus, Caius, I think, and ... Aaron? He said they were like royalty, the leaders." I lick my lips nervously. "Like I said, they were frightening."

Henry has a very strange expression on his face. He almost seems offended. "You were … afraid?"

"It reminded me of how vulnerable I was." I sigh. "I guess that's stupid."

"Not stupid at all, Isabella."

We stare at each other for a moment. "Why are you asking me all this?"

Henry gazes at me intently. There's a look in his eyes, a mixture of regret and something almost predatory. "Do you trust me, Isabella?" he asks.

I stare at him. "You haven't given me reason not to." It's not a real answer, and we both know it. The look in Henry's eyes changes, and once again I see that almost-anger in them, before, just as quickly, it passes.

"What is it?" I ask. _Please don't hide things from me. I am so sick of vampires concealing things._

Henry looks at me with what appears to be genuine regret. "Isabella, my dear, I am afraid that your mortal life is about to come to an end."

XXXXX

**A/N: **Did I say three parts for Portland? I meant four … At any rate, there's not too much more to go in the story. The next chapter is more plot, but I'm interested in what people think of this one, too. I hoped to keep everything in character as much as possible.

Thank you to everyone who favorited / followed / reviewed the last chapter—there were some really wonderful comments, and I appreciate it a lot! I promise I will get caught up-ish with my responses at some point. I do read every comment and appreciate them all.


	15. A Human Death

**Warning: Violence, torture, general nastiness.**

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Twilight. I'm not making money from this.

XXXXX

A half-hour later, I'm alone and reeling. The reasons why are as follows:

One: Henry is part of the Volturi, the most powerful coven on the planet. They're the vampire enforcers Edward told me about briefly before leaving me alone. They are the ones charged with keeping vampires secret from humans. Humans like me. Which leads to …

Two: The Cullens—and Edward in particular—have broken the most important vampire law by leaving me aware of the secret. They should have killed or turned me. According to Henry, they are currently in Volterra, awaiting trial for their crime.

Three: For my part in all of this, I have a choice: to die or become sparkly. A wooden box or eternal existence. Henry has implied, but not stated, that I have the vampire option because he likes me. Not all humans are invited into the club, evidently. Whichever I choose, it will be Henry who does the honors.

Four: Whichever I choose, I will never see my friends or family again. My life as I know it is over. So it turns out that Henry's melodramatic statement? Just factual.

Five: I am freaking the fuck out.

Henry delivered all of this to me in a quiet, almost dreamy sounding voice voice. He said he was sorry. He actually looked regretful, in a distant kind of a way. And then he drifted out of the room, leaving me alone to think.

Yeah, because my mind is so calm and logical right now.

Did I mention I am freaking the fuck out?

I have until tomorrow morning. Less than twenty-four hours to decide which way I want to die. No pressure.

Right now, I'm in my room sitting on a chair staring into space, I haven't moved. Haven't watched pay-per-view (although what that would consist of in _this_ hotel is an interesting question), Haven't enjoyed a hotel shower.

I close my eyes and rest my head on my knees. I'd like to say I've been thinking about what I'll choose. I haven't, not really. Mainly, I'm in shock.

How strange that the girl who begged Edward Cullen for the gift of immortality is now in this situation with a completely different vampire. And, even stranger, she doesn't know what to do.

What a stupid lamb.

I stand and walk over to the window, open the heavy curtains. I see people passing by on the street far below: innocent, ignorant, on their way to their normal lives, their dysfunctional families, their financial and relationship troubles.

Is that what I want, now that it's too late? Do I want to be one of them?

I don't know what I want.

That's not true. I want not to make a decision.

Overwhelming claustrophobia. Suddenly the walls seem too close, the ceiling too low, room too small. I have to walk, run, get away.

I don't take the time to change, although the dress I've been wearing is rumpled and smells like ... I will definitely not fucking think about _that_ right now.

Henry has messed with every organ I have tonight, it seems. My head is just one of them.

I listen: it's still quiet. Quickly, I put on my jacket, grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder. I only hope that no one stops me.

Henry doesn't. In fact, he doesn't seem to be in the suite at all. The door is slightly ajar. I slip out and down the stairs, avoiding the elevator.

My mind replays what Henry said, just after our … encounter. He helped me straighten my clothes, smooth my hair. He had that happy, childlike smile on his face. Like he'd just learned something new and delightful.

_What a gift you have given me, Isabella. How I've been thinking of seeing you, hearing you, just like that._

He goes from ragged, consuming, _predatory_, to a kindergartener who has been gifted a puppy, to serious, calm, utterly contained. Telling me that I have to die. And that he'll be the one to kill me.

How?

_He's unhinged, that's how. You attached yourself to an insane vampire. Not too surprising really. All things considered._

And _why_ in the name of all that is fucking holy is it _Rosalie's_ voice who is saying that, inside my head?

Holding the heels in one hand, I rush down the stairs. It's astonishing I don't fall and break both legs.

The stairs exit by a corner of the lobby by to the back door, and I've never been so grateful to leave any place as this. But still, I wait until I'm two blocks away until I lean over next to a recycling bin, wheezing for air. It feels like there's not enough oxygen in the entire world.

I keep moving. I know he can find me easily. Know he can quickly catch up with me, a mere human, but still, I stride away as if I have somewhere to go other than death.

I guess I know now why Henry liked that photograph so much. Because he is my Hades.

I''m definitely making a good case for being Persephone right now.

I break into a run, going as fast as I can, turning corners at random until I have no idea where I am. I slow, gradually, because I'm running without shoes and that can only go on for so long.

I find myself in a city park with a children's playground. It's not safe for a woman alone to hang out in a public space at night, but honestly, isn't that's the least of my problems at the moment?

I put on my shoes and sit on the swings. I watch as Alice's expensive, impractical heels dig into the sandy dirt groove cut by hundreds of pairs of small sneakered feet.

Alice, who saw me as one of _them_. Alice, who said I was Edward's mate, yet provided the costumes for my outings with Henry. I wonder what she knows. Can she see me now?

From overhead, I hear the faint buzz of the streetlamp overhanging the swingset. I look around at the silent playground, at the brightly colored equipment designed for children.

Children with futures. Choices.

I do have a choice, and it should be easy to make. Die now as a human or exist as a vampire. A no-brainer. I'm not particularly religious or worried about my eternal soul. And, let's face it: who wants to die?

I've never considered an eternity alone, though. The idea of it fills me with panic. The forever I considered was with Edward and my beloved extended family.

How many daydreams did I have of what it would be like, if I were like the Cullens? How many secret plans I never shared with anyone?

Now, after everything … I've been offered what I wanted. And it is thanks for Edward, the vampire who swore he would never, ever change me.

There's an song about irony in there somewhere.

I feel a gust of wind behind me, and shiver. I start to swing, thinking. I wish I had someone to talk to.

I know what Alice would say now: _Tell me, Bella … you've given me a lot of really good reasons, but is that really the problem? Or do you just want it to be?_

She would be right. I'm not thinking of Edward, or irony, not really.

My legs kick out from underneath my dress, the chains above me creak, and I can feel the wind in my hair. I close my eyes, thinking.

The truth is, I'm afraid. Because of Henry. Because, as stupid as it is, as little sense as it makes, all the reasons not to—I've known him less than two weeks, don't know his real name, he eats people for fuck's sake—I feel a connection with this vampire. A … pull. I can't deny it and still be honest with myself.

Maybe it's because I'm broken. Maybe he's the world's greatest vampire con artist. Maybe it's just meant to be. Or some insane combination of all of these.

Maybe. But it is. It's strong and real and it's been growing.

Here's my problem: what if I let whatever this is grow? What if I develop real feelings for him? What if he's like Edward, and he leaves me, only this time, I have _all eternity_ before me? What if this time I have _forever_ to wander the planet, alone? Enduring. Knowing he's out there somewhere, and I will never have him.

The thought makes me consider whether immortality is such a gift, after all.

At least as a human, I could dream of the release of death.

I can't help but laugh out loud. I'm upset about being forced to die, because it takes away the option of death? The Cullens were right: I am not a normal human.

"You seem amused, little one." The voice is deep and musical, and I freeze. The chains of the swing shriek in protest. It's the voice of a vampire, and I do not know this voice.

Slowly, I look up. He stands in front of me, and he's blocking the light. It takes my eyes a while to adjust. His hair is as black, as dark as Henry's, although its much shorter. His skin is like Henry's, too, like expensive paper, the kind with the fibers. They could almost be brothers, in a way.

And then I don't have any more time to consider, because he grabs me, rips me off the swing, and runs. I don't even have time to utter a sound. My fingernails rip on the chains of the swing, my face is pressed against his hard, cold chest, and he's squeezing me so tightly that I know I'll have bruises. The wind whips around us; what feel like branches tear against the flesh of my exposed legs. I have to be bleeding.

Finally, he throws me unceremoniously into the center of a clearing. I land against my shoulder and something pops, dislocating my shoulder. I scream, then whimper and curse. The vampire watches me flop around, his head slightly cocked in what looks like mild, detached interest.

Slowly, I regain control. My shoulder and legs are throbbing, and I can feel moistire on my calf and fingertips. I was rightl; I am bleeding.

I am alone with an unknown vampire and I am bleeding.

"Are you done?" the vampire asks. I just stare at him.

I know that we must be far away from the city now. The stars overhead are bright and numerous, and I can't hear anything but the wind. I'm sure we're nowhere near Portland. He's taken me somewhere private, so he can do—what?"

"Who … " I swallow against a dry throat. "Who are you?" My voice comes out a hoarse whisper, and silent tears are sliding down my cheeks. I will myself to stop, to focus. _Remember Charlie's lessons about kidnappers. Pay attention. Record every detail, no matter how minor. Try to learn something about your kidnappers. _

The only problem is, Charlie didn't take the undead into account when he discussed being snatched off the street. And immortal people don't play by the same rules as regular ones.

This vampire's eyes are gleaming, crazed. "My name is Stefan. And yours is Isabella." He stares at me, and I can't read his expression. Sorrow? Anger? "You're really not as pretty as I thought you'd be," he says. "_She_ was much more beautiful."

"Who—"

"And you stink of him. _She_ always kept herself pure, I know this. She was waiting for me."

"What—"

Stefan smiles scornfully. "But perhaps I should tell you which vampire you reek of, no? After all, there are so many." Stefan narrows his eyes at me in an accusing way I don't understand. "You're practically the vampire whisperer, aren't you, Isabella?"

I feel light-headed, overwhelmed. "I—I'm not—"

He cuts me off again. "Come now. You really can't deny it. You smell of Volturi venom and sex right now. Dating the unmated Cullen. And that bite on your arm." He shakes his head sadly, as if he's found me disappointing in some way.

"Who are you?" It's the same question as before, but it means something different this time.

"I am her revenge. My coven's revenge. You are his payment for your lover's many sins. His sacrifice, if you will. Delayed, not nearly enough." He grins, a terrible, frightening expression with no mercy in it whatsoever. "But nonetheless, _deeply_ satisfying."

I can feel my heart racing. I slide backward and the long grass burns my skin. The forest is completely silent around us. I don't think I am going to get out of this. This vampire is insane_. _

"Who was she?" Safe to say that she must be dead, if he's like this about it.

He laughs bitterly. "You don't deserve to know her name."

The pain in my shoulder is excruciating. It's colder out here in the country and I begin to shiver. "What do you want?" My voice is wavering.

Stefan has a blank look on his face, and when I speak, he starts, as if he's been thinking of something completely different, and I've interrupted him. _Stupid Bella._

"I'm going to kill you slowly. Of course." He glides forward. I struggle to my feet and back up into the long grass of the field. "Don't worry. He'll find your body." He smiles an empty smile. "I would make you ash, like her, but humans are so much harder to burn. All those bone fragments."

"Please don't." I whisper.

Stefan ignores me. The pitch of his words could also be meant to be reassuring, if they weren'r so terrifying. "Don't worry, child. I get bored easily, especially with humans. It probably won't last long." He cocks his head thoughtfully. "It might seem like longer to you, of course."

_Oh God please hide me, keep me safe._

"My friend will be here soon." My voice is wavering. I want it to be true, but I don't think it is.

To my astonishment, Stefan throws back his head and laughs, long and hard. "You mean your lover f_etița_? Ah, he is no one's friend, especially not that of some human girl." He shakes his head in mock-sadness. "You're just a pet, my child. Disposable."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? He eats one just like you every day. I hear he has a weakness for females at mealtimes, and your blood smells like desert to me. Fruity, like sorbet." He smiles cruelly. "I wouldn't count on anything, if I were you."

I just shake my head wordlessly in denial.

Stefan shrugs. "Maybe you're right, freesia. But now I grow bored with talking."

And then he grabs my injured arm and _twists_.

Agony. Fire. Maybe I scream, but I don't hear it, because the world goes grey.

When I come to, Stefan is still there, still watching me. He cups a hand to his ear. "I don't hear a vampire, Isabella." He smiles. Laughs. "You're so fragile. I doubt this will be satisfying."

And then he steps, slowly, on my ankle. Like James before him, he presses casually, almost gently. I hear the bones bend, give—crack—underneath his boot, I twist, writhe. Scream.

Oh God. I realize … Edward was right. They are all monsters. Every one.

But oh, how I wish I was one, too, so that I could fight back.

There are no words. I am crying, sobbing, begging. I don't stop until my throat hurts and all that emerge are broken gasps.

I look around frantically, wishing there were only somewhere to hide, somewhere to run. I_f only I could disappear. Shrink, go away. Poof. Just … disappear. I want to be invisible._

I calm down, slightly, and Stefan is grinning again. "Still no vampire."

Despair; I know he's right. No one is coming. This isn't the ballet studio.

Here is where I die.

"Your friend lied about who he is, you know." The vampire starts circling me, closer and closer, forcing me to stare up at him from the ground. "We vampires, all we ever do is lie to humans." He shakes his head. "He doesn't love you. How could he? You'll never measure up to _her_."

I struggle to sit upright. I'm bleeding from several places and my bones … I think I have a bone sticking out through the skin of my leg. I'm afraid to look at it. I can barely see through the tears in my eyes. I'm on my back and forced to look up at Stefan.

He kicks my side, and I hear the snapping of ribs. I go down again. This time I only whimper. Somehow, I roll to my belly and I'm trying to drag myself away with my unbroken leg and elbow, but then the vampire is in front of me again.

Stefan crouches down.I stare up at him, willing him just to kill me. It's getting harder to breathe.

My prayer is answered.

"I was right, Isabella." he says casually. "I am bored already. Are you relieved?"

He shoves me over to my back, , leans in closely. He flicks his tongue against my neck. "You do smell delicious," he says. "A bloody flower." He smiles cruelly. "But I've never been one for a Volturi's sloppy seconds."

"Just kill me," I whisper. It's so hard to catch my breath and I am afraid he won't hear me.

Against me, I feel Stefan stiffen and I think it's because of what I said, but then I see him stare over to his right.

I follow his eyes. A girl flows into the clearing, just on the edge of my greying peripheral vision. She moves like a dancer, but with an air of danger. It's obvious she's a vampire. I've seen her before.

The girl from my dream. Jane.

"Hello, Stefan. It's been a while." She nods at my torturer calmly, as if I'm not even there. His hand tighten around my arms. She smiles.

I have no idea how this girl could beat Stefan, but that smile … she clearly thinks she can.

Oh how I hope she is right.

"_vrăjitoare_," Stefan says.

"Oh come now, Stefan." another voice echoes from the opposite end of the clearing. Alec, I remember. "Name calling? It's your own poor planning that got you in this mess."

Stefan says nothing, watches them as they move to either side of him.

Jane's voice is scornful. "Did you really believe he was alone? We knew you would come tonight."

The twins start circling Stefan, who holds me tightly. They may be small, these vampires, but he clearly fears them.

"He must have been overwhelmed by his _lost love,_" Alec says mockingly.

"Romeo and Juliet," Jane says with equal scorn.

Stefan hisses. They smile.

The two tween vampires stalk around Stefan in eerie, graceful synchronization, opposite hands of a clock. Alec is nine to Jane's three, she's the twelve to his six. They're both smiling slightly.

"Our Masters have been waiting for this day," Jane says.

"It's so kind of you to give it to us, so easily," Alec says.

Stefan blurs, and I'm gasping, gagging. He has me by the throat and head, in a tight headlock. My toes are grazing the grass. My good leg is kicking helplessly, my broken one is hanging.

"I'll kill her," Stefan says.

Jane shrugs casually. "She's human. They all die, anyway."

"True, but not all of them die instantly, do they?" Stefan says. "One snap, no venom in the world will save her."

Stefan and I are the center of the twin's clock, the place where the hands are pinned down. The small vampires never pause. If anything, they look amused.

"Threats? Against a human?" the boy says. He sighs in a put-upon kind of way. "I thought you said this would be interesting, Jane."

The girl shrugs. "He's always been a fairly stupid vampire, when you get down to it. Pining after _her._"

Stefan tightens his hold on my throat. I feel something pop. I crumple and I know that I must be in shock, because I feel almost nothing now, not even my leg. I can only lie on the grass now. And wait for the end. I hope it won't be long.

I see flashes of light and color, the after-images of vampires moving at super speed. I hear the sound of steel being pulled apart. Behind Stefan's falling form, I see Henry. His eyes are black and I've never seen him look more like a vampire.

He's holding Stefan's head.

I close my eyes.

XXX

**One. **

Henry is there, crouching in front of me. The scent of a sickly-sweet bonfire fills the air. Behind Henry, I can see the two smaller vampires. They're throwing lumps of something into the fire.

"Stefan?" I whisper.

"Watching his arms burn," Henry says. His voice is quiet, almost dreamy. "They'll throw his head in last."

I nod. An hour ago, that would have horrified me. "Good."

I embrace darkness.

**Two.**

One of Henry's fingers trails against my cheek, and then he licks my blood from his finger. "There you are. I'm afraid I won't be able to give you the time I wanted, Isabella," he says quietly, regretfully.. "You will be join me, won't you?"

I blink up at him from where I am sprawled, broken, on the ground. "I'm sorry, Henry." I gasp. "For leaving." It's so hard to breathe.

Henry strokes my hair with one hand. "Aro," he whispers. "My name is Aro."

"Aro," I manage to smile at him. "That's better, I think."

Aro smiles, and somehow he looks both delighted and pained. "I don't know, Isabella. I was becoming kind of fond of Henry."

**Three.**

"Blood," I say. I can only talk in ragged gasps now. "Your suit."

Aro is holding me in his lap. "I like your blood on me_, cara_." His fingers push hair back behind my ear. "You need to tell me to change you, Isabella, or I may have to do it anyway."

It's so hard to think. "If I … say no?"

A deep sadness Henry's face. "I've learned not to take away choices, but I am a selfish vampire."

"You would let me die?"

Hen-Aro closes his eyes. "Please don't."

"I don't … understand."

"Stay with me, Isabella." Aro opens his eyes and smiles, but I can hear an edge in his voice. "I've been told I'm pleasant company."

I lick my lips. "You won't …" I gasp for air. There's a strange liquid sound. "… leave me alone?"

"Never," he says. "You have my word."

**Four.**

"Do you trust me?"

I want to touch him, but my arm won't move. My hand twitches in the dirt.

_Yes, _I think. _With my life. _

I can say nothing.

"Shh, _piccolo_. It will be over soon."

Aro leans in. I feel his lips on my neck and the wetness of my blood as it flows down my collar bone.

**Five.**

I am burning.

XXXXX

A/N: And we have Aro. We're close to the end, although I suppose I could leave it here. Should I? I had the ending scene in mind before I began this, it's actually why I wrote the story, but the plot has changed my original idea a little.

Stefan says "witch" in Romanian, at least according to Google. If there's anyone who knows the language and can think of a better one, or a good phrase, please let me know and I'll use that instead.

Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed this story. I like to think I will get caught up with responses, but just finding time to write is harder at the moment. But I do read and appreciate every one. :)


	16. A Homecoming

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, am making no money from this.

XXXXX

As always, being back in Volterra is a relief, although Aro's usual feeling of homecoming is somewhat changed this time. The cobblestone streets and red tile roofs of his home are lit by a full moon as the party of vampires rolls into the underground parking lot. Disembarking with Isabella cradled in his arms, Aro is greeted by his brothers, both of whom eye the girl—Caius with doubt, Marcus with a vague curiosity—and hold their peace. Aro is grateful for their decorum, expects no less from his brothers. They are reassuring to him now. Normally, coming back reminds him of his power. Makes him feel secure. This time, he feels … anxious, and somewhat angry, and neither emotion suits him well.

He casts a resentful glance down at the girl in his arms. He wishes he could destroy her, but it's already too late. It's been too late for a while now.

If he ends her, he may as well end himself.

Aro purses his lips, tightens his grip on her. Marcus and Caius glide alongside him, both silent, as he stalks his way down through the shadowed corridors of their personal wing. Aro notices that his brothers' eyes repeatedly return to the girl, and Marcus' interest increases his own unease. Marcus is never interested in things. It doesn't bode well.

Before long, the three stop at a door that has not been used in a millennia.

"You cannot be serious," Caius says, because now he cannot keep silent."She's not even turned yet."

Marcus regards the figure being held in his brother's arms. Half-human, half-vampire, and oh so fragile. The distinctive smell of venom and blood marks one in metamorphosis, but that's not what he's looking at: a shimmering strand of deepest red flows between the woman's supine body and Aro.

Marcus raises an eyebrow and places a cautionary hand on Caius' arm, shaking his head.

Caius looks from Marcus to the girl. He looks hard at her torn clothing, her dirt-covered flesh, matted hair, slender arms covered with cloying dried blood. He stands down.

The brothers push into the suite, which is dusty and decorated in entirely too much gold leaf. At least fifty cherub statues, all painted an ominous blood red, stare at them from gold-plated pedestals. Aro looks around in distaste. "Heidi," he says, raising his voice only slightly. The vampire appears in the doorway. "These rooms need work."

Heidi looks around. "Everything?" she asks.

"Please."

Caius, whose tastes are far from subtle, winces at the décor. "It looks like Botticelli vomited Las Vegas in here," he mutters.

Aro's eyes are on Isabella again. "She's a simple person. Her father's home is plain and functional. It will alarm her to wake up in this," he says.

"You could take her to another room."

"I want her close." Aro's voice is a little bit strained. He continues to stare at her almost angrily, a fact that both of his brother's observe. A small, almost mocking smile plays on Marcus' lips. "I find myself … somewhat protective of her well-being."

"But suppose she—"

Aro's smiles hardens. "She will be here."

Caius bows his head. "As you say, Aro."

Aro holds out his hands for his brothers to take, which they do. As usual, he sees a million mundane tasks, talks with the guard, reports. He notes Marcus' personal research on the origin of vampire gifts, which bears a discussion.

He watches, silent, as the tower burns with his insane ex-wife inside.

He releases their hands. "I should have allowed her death," he says. "I was wrong, brothers."

"She is gone now," Caius says.

"She should have gone a thousand years ago." He pauses. "Do as you wish with her guard. Of course. Caius. But do not end her, we require her for Chelsea."

Caius thinks of Corin, still in the courtyard, and his lips twitch in pleasure. "I never liked that tower anyway," he says.

Aro says nothing. He's staring at the girl, his expression abstracted, somber.

Athenodora, who has clearly been listening, enters with a rush of violet silk and golden curls. She looks down at the girl, and then at Aro, who is utterly still. Her eyebrow arches at Marcus, who nods silently. She lets out a breath. "Well," she says. "I see you found more than just a shield in Washington."

Aro remains silent. He seems to have barely registered Athenodora's entrance at all. One of his hands lifts to rest on his chest, as if it pains him.

"It will improve when she wakes," Marcus says. "You know humans don't feel as we do."

Aro rubs his chest. "I did not feel this with …" he glances around the room, the long-unused former rooms of his dead wife. "Her."

"You had a different bond with her. A strong one, of companionship, but you were not mates."

Aro knew this, of course, from Marcus' mind. From the minds of others, he knows what is happening. "I don't like this feeling." His voice is a mere whisper, his face a mask of wonder. "It makes me … angry, that she caused this."

"She'll make you weak," Caius says. He glances at Athenodora, and grimaces. "There's no avoiding it."

"She almost died."

"It won't happen again."

"No."

Aro ponders the scene in the field. How did this human girl slip past his guard on the room, how did she remained undetected for long enough for them to lose her? If he hadn't returned from hunting when he had …

The thought of him without her, of being like Marcus …

_I intended her to be bait, but he should never have had the time … It should never have gotten that far._

_It will never happen again._

Marcus rests his hand on his brother's shoulder very briefly, then removes it. He can offer no reassurance but understanding.

"Suppose she wakes and does not feel it," Caius says.

Aro freezes. After a moment, he says, "It changes nothing." He cannot let her go, and if she feels nothing, he will spend eternity convincing her.

"There have been cases of an unrequited bond," Caius observes. Athenodora slaps him on the back of the head, and glares pointedly. Caius frowns at her, baffled, and she rolls her eyes. Shakes her head.

"Rare," Marcus says. "And if it happens, she has no way of knowing."

Aro nods, relieved. For one person to have that kind of power over him, over _them_, is entirely unacceptable. But severing a bond like theirs would cripple him. He clenches his teeth together in frustration.

"She is a shield, then?" Caius says. He's curious, although the likelihood of this girl serving on the guard is next to nothing. He recognizes the look on his brother's face, the intense focus, the anger, all too well.

"Eleazar confirmed it, although what that will mean, he doesn't know."

"It might account for her silence," Marcus notes. It is clear the girl is changing; all the signs are there. Her lack of screams was welcome, if troubling. "She could be merely sleeping."

Athenodora regards at the girl. "I will stay with her," she says, raising her voice slightly so the guard can hear "She will need clothes, and someone to wipe the human odor off of her."

"Thank you, sister." Aro looks at her directly, his normally happy smile subdued. "Do not subvert my will again, please."

She shakes her head, curls moving around her face. "I won't, Aro."

The four of them stare down at Isabella. Her hair has changed, thickened, and the skin of her legs and arms is now a doll's smooth flawless porcelain.

"It was a successful trip," Aro says. "we are stronger than before." He doesn't feel stronger. He feels more vulnerable. This ordinary, extraordinary, human girl has made him weak, and he is helpless before the feeling.

At least now he has found her. And she won't be human for long.

Isabella is his, and she will remain.

XXX

Hours later, the brothers leave the room. Athenodora remains to protect his interests, although Aro leaves Jane as well. Just in case.

"We could do this in the throne room," Caius says again, as they walk.

"Carlisle deserves the privacy to speak without intimidation or restraint," Aro says. He's not feeling charitable toward the Cullens, but his old friend does deserve that much. At least in theory. "The sentencing will be public, as usual."

"Do recall Edward's ability, brothers," Aro murmurs as they grow closer.

Caius grins, showing his gleaming teeth. "As if I could forget. Which book will you choose?"

"I thought I would review some animal taxonomy," Marcus says mildly. "You?"

"The Kama Sutra, in English," Caius says. "I'm not sure how he is with languages, and there are several interesting parts I would like to share with young Edward."

XXX

The Cullens are housed in a lower level, away from the rest of the Volturi. They've been given a wing to themselves, one with views facing the rolling hills that surround the city. They have privacy and will not be troubled by the screams of humans. The Volturi are nothing if not good hosts.

Enjoying the view will be the last thing on their minds, of course. Most of the Cullens will be reconciling themselves to the end of their existence, if they are intelligent.

Aro reminds himself to read all of them, and to use the facts to determine their punishment. If he uses his emotion right now, he will tear the entire coven apart, limb from limb, and bathe himself in their venom.

It's not a matter of being fair minded, of course. But it won't do to be incautious or overly vindictive. He doesn't want anyone to know about his bond. Not until she awakens.

The Cullen coven rises when the brothers glide in. There's nothing to be gained and everything to lose from disrespect and none among them can fail to admit that they committed the crime.

No, the best they can hope for is mercy.

Marcus and Caius are at Aro's sides and slightly behind, as is usual. Aro has a wide, delighted smile on his face, the perfect mask of a host greeting welcomed travelers.

Caius, who never cared much for social niceties, or fair-mindedness for that matter, smirks over at Edward Cullen, who looks a trifle nauseated.

Aro gives his brother a sideways glance then greets his old friend. Carlisle is, of course, just as he remembered him. The only vampire he knew—that anyone knew—who had never killed a human. How pure he used to think his friend's soul must be. If any among them could be redeemed, perhaps it would be him.

How badly he had wanted to corrupt that perfect, golden soul.

Aro considers of Isabella now, and thinks a little differently about the state of his old friend's soul. Perhaps he was already corrupted.

"Carlisle," Aro says. His voice is welcoming, if a touch somber and regretful. "I trust you are well? Your accommodations are not lacking?"

"Aro," Carlisle returns, inclining his head. He forces a smile. "We are comfortable, thank you. However, we are anxious to get this matter cleared up, as you can imagine."

Aro's gaze sharpens. "Cleared up," he echoes. His manner is detached, and yet, now, looking at Carlisle's coven, he finds himself oddly, fiercely, enraged. How _dare_ they stand there, as though they have done _nothing_? As though his mate had not _suffered_—

Edward twitches, and Aro cuts off the thought ruthlessly.

He forces his mind to calm. Still.

Justice must be impartial. Or at least appear so, for the good of the coven. And he is not unaware of the talent that resides in the room with him. Aro sweeps his eyes around to assess Alice and Jasper. His eyes linger on Edward, and oh how he wishes to just share a little _snippet_, just a _taste_ of his memory of—.

_Not quite yet. But something, perhaps …_

He carefully doesn't change expression. Listens to Carlisle explain that this must all be some kind of misunderstanding. Privately revels in the feeling of fear that permeates the room.

_Your former pet tasted delicious, Edward, _he thinks. Deliberately, Aro makes it sound as though he drained her. _Floral. Rich._

Carlisle and he both pretend not to notice as Jasper and Emmett grab Edward's arms. Caius' smile widens.

The eldest Cullen son is snarling in his restraints. Aro looks at him as if bewildered. Marcus looks at Edward abstractedly, and shakes his head. He always enjoyed looking at the bonds the Cullens have. They are so clear and vibrant. Now, they are strained. And Edward's …

"What a waste," Marcus murmurs. "For a wisp of an idea, a nothing." He subsides, staring into space as if his mind has gone elsewhere.

The Cullens not holding Edward stare at Marcus. Then away.

"What did you do to her?" Edward's question is a yell, an accusing shout. Aro arches an eyebrow in surprise. "Tell me."

"Why, nothing that wasn't required," Aro says. "Why do you ask?"

Edward only throws himself forward in response, trying to get free. "Control your child," Caius says sharply. "Before we do it for you,"

They do, and soon Edward is seated in a chair with Emmett's arms firmly on his shoulders, and Jasper's stare keeping him calm. Alice whispers into his ear, and Edward closes his eyes. Drops his head. Subsides.

Aro observes all of this with a feline, predatory interest. "Dear Edward," he says, There's a tiny edge to his voice, despite his iron will. _They must not know._ "So worried about a human you cast aside. How very contradictory." He motions to his brothers, to the Cullens, and they all sit.

"You don't—" Edward begins. "You didn't—" He is cut off abruptly by the sounds of his own screaming. The Cullen's eyes are drawn to the forms of the twins standing behind the brothers.

"Respect, Edward," Jane says in a bored tone.

"Let's avoid further interruptions, shall we?" Aro says. He turns to face the Cullens, and his tone hardens, becomes formal. "You are hereby accused of betraying the secret to a human who you neither intended to turn nor deigned to remove from this world. How do you respond to these charges?"

Carlisle, as coven leader, is the one to reply. "We do not deny the facts, but plead circumstances."

"I see." Aro holds out his hand. "Carlisle, would you care to be first?"

And it begins. The trial itself is simple information gathering, of course. Caius questions Carlisle, knowing he will have to answer honestly while his brother reads his thoughts.

"Why did you allow a human to learn of our existence?" Caius asks.

"She discovered it on her own. Also, we believed her to be Edward's mate, and that because of that, she would be changed."

"Are you unaware that humans cannot connect as vampires do? That they cannot feel a mating bond?"

"Yes, but he was certain nonetheless."

"She was his singer," Aro says breathlessly. His eyes are wide. He sees Edward, crazed after school, a mixture of rage, hunger and fascination. He sees an urgent run to Alaska. "And he could not read her mind. Remarkable."

Caius' lips curl in distaste. "A mate you are compelled to eat. Darwin wept. Again, why did you allow Edward to leave the human alive, unturned, knowing about our kind?"

Carlisle looks down, and Aro sees a birthday party, and blood. Stitches. A helpless girl in a room filled with vampires and no succor. He sees Carlisle's first companion in his study begging him to leniency. For mercy. For time. Carlisle continues, "Edward was determined to protect her from our world. We believed that he would return, as it is nearly impossible to stay away from a mate that long."

Aro sees a shattered Edward, a depressed coven. Alice, crying. An ineffectual group of vampires.

"And yet he did. Did you not doubt his story even then? Did you not think to return and kill her?"

"He suffered to an extreme that we never doubted it."

"Mate or not, she was human."

"We believed he would return any day," Carlisle repeats.

Caius purses his lips, says nothing.

XXX

One by one, the Cullen vampires come forward, and Aro takes their hands. Edward is last, and Caius has only two questions.

"Were you made aware of the laws upon your turning?"

"I was."

"Did you tell a human about our kind?"

"She guessed."

Marcus clucks his tongue disapprovingly. "Ex nihilo nihil fit. Edward."

Aro is silent. He's bowed over the young vampire's hand. When he releases it, he looks amazed. Overwhelmed. He's filled with so many conflicting images and emotions.

It seems clear to him that Edward has deliberately and arrogantly violated the law. But Isabella … what will she do if he kills Edward? Does he care? These are all things to be considered at leisure.

_If she feels it, she will have little choice but to accept it. And yet …_

He closes his eyes and places a hand over his chest. The pull of the bond is getting stronger. Tighter. Almost painful. He needs to return and guard her.

_She may not even remember him, _he thinks.

Aro opens his eyes to see every vampire's eyes on him. The sun is snaking through the windows. It's dawn, and all of them are shimmering, illuminated in the ray of light before it fades.

"May I see her?" Edward asks quietly, and Aro blinks. So the seer has been shown Isabella. He shouldn't be surprised. He really needs to acquire Alice. That is, if they don't kill her instead.

_She was once Isabella's friend,_ he thinks. _That could be useful. She might take Whitlock with her._

"You are in no position to make demands," Caius says.

"And yet, I am," Edward returns tightly.

Caius gestures elegantly, carelessly with one hand. "We could place your head on a shelf in her room," he says. "Would that suffice?"

Aro waves off his brother. "You will not see her now," he says shortly. "She burns."

Seven pairs of golden eyes stare. Only Alice and Edward do not look surprised. "After her change?"

That depends on Isabella," Aro says. His voice is very quiet. What will he do if she is drawn toward this boy? He thinks of Stefan and Sulpicia, and maintains his pleasant mask. Inside, he is afraid and angry. He will have to kill Edward if that comes to pass. Horribly. Painfully. He doesn't want to upset Isabella, of course. But he will not share her. "You should be aware that she is not yours, Edward. You have lost her."

"She will know me," Edward says.

Aro shakes his head. "If you think that changes a thing, you are naïve indeed, Edward." He leans forward to whisper in the younger vampire's ear. He enunciates clearly. "She was your singer, not your mate, and your fascination is not my concern." He leans back, smiles slowly. Thinks, very vividly, of an elevator, and of soft, slick human skin under his fingers. Of a mortal woman's cries of pleasure. Aro smirks slightly. "Although I do thank you for your restraint."

Edward's brothers have to restrain him again, which is unfortunate. Aro grins at the sight, and Marcus looks vaguely over, makes a disapproving sound.

Carlisle glances over at his son. Jasper is holding him by the throat, and Emmett is holding his arms., He returns his gaze to the Volturi leader. "Aro, if I may, we have some questions of our own," he says.

"Of course," Aro says pleasantly. "Please, Carlisle." He doesn't want to kill Carlisle. He isn't quite sure if he will anyway.

"Am I correct in surmising that you came across Isabella?" Carlisle asks. "Is she indeed here, now?"

Aro tilts his head. "She is, yes."

"May we see her?" Carlisle asks. "After the change? If she wishes it?"

"If, yes." Aro shakes his head in mock-sorrow. "Given her condition, she may not."

"You changed her?"

Aro inclines his head, and Carlisle's eyes widen. "Because of her gift?" he asks.

"After I found her on death's door," Aro says. "Without protection, without help, alone." He smiles sorrowfully. "Quite helpless. Interesting, I think, that such a _humanitarian_ group of vampires left her so alone in the world."

Esme closes her eyes and looks away. Carlisle glances at her. "We would like to visit her, when she has changed," he says. "All of us care for her."

"Ah." Aro's face has changed. "I see," he says softly. "Care for her … truly, Carlisle, if Isabella is the result of your care, I rather hope that I am never under the benefit of such myself."

Carlisle bows his head. His beautiful angel's face is troubled. and the other Cullens are silent. The quiet extends, and continues once the brothers have exited the room, leaving the Cullens behind.

XXXXX

A/N: Ex nihilo nihil fit = Nothing comes from nothing.

One more chapter to go … I thnk. This one just would not come for a while. Thank you to everyone who reviewed / favorited / followed the last chapter. I appreciate it. :)


	17. A Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, am making no money from this.

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I am drowning in a sea of liquid agony. Sucked down by undertow. Trapped with weights, wrapped in searing cloth, buried deep in an ocean of lava. My lungs, intestines, my very bones are molten and I will never reach the surface again.

The word burning doesn't begin to, could never, describe this pain.

My very self is lost in this miasma of agony. Whatever emerges will be forever changed.

If something emerges.

The idea that this might be the end for me is only disturbing in the context of never-ending agony. An end in death, the idea is only a relief.

How could anyone ever consent to this? What could ever be worth it?

From a great distance, something, a concept appears inside my world of suffering. Something I should remember … but even that thought, that inkling of a reminder, it's gone.

I can hear something from a great distance, and as if I really am underwater, it's muffled.

I make out screaming, sounds that seem like words but aren't. Sounds that could be pleading but are far less comprehensible.

Another glimmer of sanity, like a light on the boiling surface far above. One second here, a half a moment there, before the torture claims me again, sucking me back into its dark whirlpool of wonders.

After an endless time, I can feel myself slowly surfacing. I break the surface.

Noises from … everywhere. The wet sounds of … sponges? I concentrate. Paintbrushes. Musical voices farther away, through a wall or a door.

I struggle to get my bearings. I am lying on something hard. I'm not drowning anymore. Instead, the lava is contained, inside me. I can feel what's happening. It's flowing through my veins, burning me from the inside out.

Vampire venom. I remember now. It's receded from my hands and feet. My calves have cooled. My thighs are still on fire.

"Isabella? Can you hear me?" A slightly husky, compelling female voice, harmony rather than melody. Do I know it? No.

"I shouldn't tell you this, Isabella. But if you want to remember your human life, you should think about it now." It's the woman's voice again. She sounds oddly hesitant. "The venom will remove neural connections you had as a human, so you need to replace them now with the venom in your system, while you still remember."

I remember …

My name. Isabella Marie Swan. Bella.

My father. Charlie in his police uniform.

My mother. Renee, searching frantically for papers in the morning before work, and losing her keys. Calling me because she ran out of gas on her way home from work. Smiling tentatively, standing beside a man—Phil—as I disappear inside an airport. Waving me goodbye.

My truck. Forks, Washington. Wet and cold. An unusual family at school. Pale and graceful. Perfect. So far above me. Vampires. Legends, an internet search. Making a discovery that couldn't possibly be true. Determination to find out.

Captivation … obsession.

Jumps in time. Later. A spiky-haired, elfin teenaged vampire, looking at me mischievously with butterscotch eyes. She's holding up a dress while I back away, and I trip over a chair while she laughs. "I knew you would do that."

My friend's boyfriend staring at me with a pained face, like I'm hurting him with my existence. An unnatural feeling of calm filling me when I'm upset.

A large male vampire making a face as he plays a videogame. I know he's letting me win, but we both pretend otherwise. His laughter is booming when I do so. It feels like a warm blanket. I feel safe with him.

A boy with copper-colored hair, staring at me from across a crowded cafeteria. Staring at me with black , hostile eyes in a high school classroom. Kissing me with closed lips. Lying in a field of flowers with sunshine dancing between us, around us … he's glowing. He's leaving. He's breaking me.

Frustration. Helplessness.

They're leaving me. They've left.

Longing enough to shatter my heart.

…

Then I remember Henry. He's there on my doorstep with that strange expression on his face. Amused and cynical one moment, childlike with wonder the next. Unique and undecipherable. He's a puzzle with infinite sides.

I remember the sensation of fascination, of tentative emerging hope and awe, and the feeling of his touch. The look in his eyes as he stares at me, intent and hungry.

There's a tugging in my chest. I squirm. With that simple movement, the pain returns again, and once again I'm pulled under. Not quite so far this time.

But still boiling … oh God, please make it stop. Something. Anything.

There is another cry, from a distance, and then a snapping noise.

And then I have escaped. Somehow, as with my dreams, I've left my body and am outside, looking down. It takes me a moment to register: the pain is _there_, at a remove, at the other end of an expanse. I can ignore it, for a moment.

I'm looking down on … myself. And I have to stare, for I am beautiful. A delicate, pale creature with finely drawn bones, thick dark hair, graceful hands and feet.

Someone has changed me into a dark blue silk dress that contrasts vividly with my skin and shows what else has changed. It's all for the better. My former emaciation has softened into slender, rounded curves.

I look ethereal.

But then again, I guess I am, in a sense. I'm changing into a vampire.

I manage to look beyond myself, finally. There are other vampires in the room with me. Two are working at blurred speeds. They're doing things to the chamber in which I lie. One is painting and the other is—smashing red angel children? How strange.

Closer to where I hover, beside my body sits a blonde, doll-like vampire that I do not know.

I look to one side, there's a blur in my vision, and now I'm outside the room, on the other side of the door. I recognize the two vampires standing there on either side of the entrance. Jane and Alec.

"Will she be in the guard, do you think?" Jane asks. Her voice is pensive.

"Look at where they've placed her," her brother says. "You tell me."

I want to say something to them, but I can't … Before I can try, there's another blur. I am in a room with three vampires. I know one of them.

_Henry. _No. _Not Henry … _I struggle with the name. In the back of my mine I can feel that my brain is on fire. Finally, it comes_. _

_Aro. _

_Aro Volturi._

I stare at him, fascinated The other vampires might as well not be present. He's standing facing away from me, toward a fireplace with his hands braced on a marble mantle upon which rest two antique vases.

He looks agitated. Barely controlled.

_What is bothering him? _I wonder.

For clues, I look at the other two vampires.

Finally, I manage it. Like him, they also have red eyes. One has hair so blonde it's almost white; the other brown and wavy.

Caius and Marcus. I remember! There was a painting … and then Henry told me. He is really Aro. The Volturi.

If his brothers are here, I must be in Volterra. Italy.

While I am contemplating these things, The blonde—Caius?—is speaking. He says, "I disagree. He's untrustworthy, and with his gift entirely too prone to information gathering. He will always be a threat."

The other vampire—Marcus, I think—looks thoughtful. "Keeping her close might contain some of that, if he really believes himself her mate."

Caius stares at him, an eyebrow raised, and Marcus shrugs. "It's not the same kind of bond. An almost. They would never have known otherwise, had things gone differently. But now it's withering, of course."

There's the sound of something breaking. Marble dust flies around the room in a powdery spray, accompanied by the sound of a low growl. Aro stands in place, shaking. He's broken off two chunks of the marble fireplace mantle with his bare hands. The twin vases slide to the floor, smash to pieces unnoticed. Aro turns, stops. His fists clench at his sides.

"Are you well, brother?" Marcus asks. His voice is bland. Why do I think he's amused?

Aro closes his eyes, appears to gather his composure around him with a force of will. Slowly, he says, "Edward can be cowed." The words appear to come with difficulty "Given the right leverage. And time."

Caius eyes his brother cautiously. "But is he worth it? He may be gifted, but surely another will come along sooner or later."

"Indeed? And how many have you seen in your three millennia, brother?" Aro has conquered his strain. Other than the chunks of marble, there's no sign of his former state.

Caius shrugs indifferently.

"I grant you, if another were to exist, he would be better put down. However—"

"You are blinded by his gift, Aro."

The raven-haired man's eyes are cold. "You misread me, brother. I wish nothing more than to throw him piece by piece into the fire and spit venom into the flames—" He cuts himself off abruptly and spins, exiting the room to the bang of a slamming door.

Another piece of the marble mantle falls to the floor. The two other vampires stare silently at the door where their brother stormed out, and then look at each other.

"I can't decide if this is entertaining," Caius says. "The timing could be better."

Marcus' eyes grow unfocused, vague. "She will wake soon, and the real drama will begin." He pauses. "That's not the intriguing part, however."

Caius lifts a finely sculpted eyebrow. "Pray tell."

His brother shrugs. "What's interesting is that the terminus of his bond is floating in that corner of the ceiling," he gestures idly. Toward me.

_Oh shit._

With my panicked thought, there's an unpleasant snapping sensation, and I am back. In my body. The burning is in my chest and I can feel my breathing has grown shortened, irregular. My heart is srruggling, stuttering in a strange, arrhythmic pattern.

The pain …

My back arches off the table as my heart seizes and stutters. Seizes again.

Dies.

XXX

Silence.

Like before. I can hear sounds, but now without the noise of my beating heart or the distraction of my pain. I keep my eyes closed, amazed at the clarity in what I hear. Someone is sitting beside me. It must be the blonde woman from my … was it a vision? Journey? I hear her shift slightly, rise. These sounds are followed by the groaning of a door's ancient hinges. Footsteps—high heels—sound against marble. I hear the subtle creaking of shoe leather as she moves.

_What do you know, _I think. _Vampires aren't silent, after all. I just could never hear them before._

The female vampire's voice comes from outside the door, melodic and resonant. It's the same voice that spoke to me, earlier. She sounds almost panicked now. "Get Aro please, Alec. Quickly. She is waking early."

Distantly, I hear the slamming of a door.

I open my eyes, blinking against the immediate and violent sensory assault. There's just so _much_ … of _everything_. It's startling. Paralyzing.

But I don't have time to process any of it. Two male vampires, followed closely by Jane, slam into the room, and I recoil. It's the brothers, the two that discovered me. They are … powerful. Deadly. Ancient. I can see, so clearly now, the economical grace in their movements, the intensity with which they are staring at me.

Every sense in my new, overloaded body screams at me that I am in danger of the very worst kind.

And like a light has been switched on in a room, I remember Stefan, and the field. My bones breaking. His laughter. He'd had that same ancient look, that same intent expression, just before he started hurting me.

I cringe away, creep back off of the table. I need to escape. Now. They can hurt me. Kill me. Just like the last one.

They are a threat I couldn't possibly defeat.

Without thinking about it at all, I am in the far corner of the room. Overwhelmed. Hissing.

I can't let this happen. No one will hurt me again. Not this time.

"She was with Stefan just before," Jane murmurs.

Alec says, "She's still with him now."

I sniff the air, the smell of paint and vampires. In the distance, I smell fresh air and freedom. If I were in my right mind, I would notice that the brothers look ancient, yes, but they don't look crazy, like Stefan did. Caius seems intrigued, while Marcus looks distantly amused.

I'm not, though. I am too far gone. All I know is, I won't let them hurt me.

They will never find me.

A red haze of fight or flight fills my brain, and I can feel something inside _twisting_.

_Hide._

I'm gone.

XXXXX

Running is amazing. This new body is amazingly efficient. I don't get tired or ache. I'm not short of breath and the idea of tripping on anything … well, it's laughable. I remember that someone wanted to keep me from becoming a vampire, although I don't remember who it was.

Why would they deny me this wonder?

I speed through the hallways, barefooted, my hair streaming out behind me. I forget for a moment that I'm escaping and pirouette, do high leaps. It's astonishing what this body can do. The silk of my dress hisses sensually against my skin. I'm not cold in the drafty passageways of the castle.

Vampires pass me, but never see me. I'm invisible.

_None of them can see me. No one will ever trap me, lie to me, ever again._

I've never felt more powerful.

I grin, amazed and delighted. I'm not helpless human Bella. I'm something greater, something wild and free and untamed. I laugh, delighted, and marvel at the sound of bells as I run out of the fortress and into the cool, welcoming evening.

XXXXX

I run for a while, savoring the feeling the wind in my hair. My pale feet are bare, and I know I don't need shoes. In fact, they barely even touch the ground. I've left Volterra behind, and the hills of Tuscany speed past me as I explore my new abilities. Finally, after a while, I stop, by a small stream. I don't know how long it's been. Minutes? Hours?

I feel amazing. I frown. Aren't I supposed to be consumed with the need for blood? Maybe I wasn't a vampire, after all?

Maybe they lied to me.

"Is the smell not bothering you?" The voice makes me jump, and I let out a small cry. It's one of the vampires from the room. One of the brothers. He holds up his hands. "Don't run, child," he says. "I won't harm you."

"You're … Marcus?" I ask, a little shakily. I can think more clearly now. He's not with Stefan. "Stefan's dead."

He nods. "Quite dead. And I am Marcus. But tell me, young one, how the humans here aren't bothering you? I confess myself … curious."

"Human? So I am a vampire?" For some reason, I need the confirmation.

"What a curious newborn you are. I can see his fascination."

"So I am?"

"Single-minded like a newborn, though." Marcus sighs. "Yes, Isabella. You are a vampire."

I frown at his sigh and stand on a large outcropping of rock. I want to be able to run again, if necessary.

Marcus cocks his head in my direction. He's handsome, in an austere way. His face is all flat planes and sharp angles. No curves. His eyebrows rise. "I should say, I am fairly certain you are one of us. If I could see you I could tell you for certain."

Belatedly, I get it.

"Oh! I forgot!" I unfocus my eyes to look at the pearlescent bubble surrounding my body. "I'm not sure how to drop it," I admit, dismayed. When he says nothing, I close my eyes, wishing that I become visible.

"There you are," Marcus says mildly. "I assume you believe I'm not a danger, or wouldn't have lowered it. Why did you run?"

"It was … the suddenness, and all of you …" I swallow unnecessarily. "I was frightened."

"And of course, you spied on us just before. I wouldn't make a habit of that, Isabella." His voice is gentle, but serious. "We can be a little … temperamental … about such things."

I look down. I don't want his displeasure, although I couldn't say quite why. "I didn't mean to." I don't know how to explain what has happened to me, when I leave my body. He's given me the final confirmation that it's real, though. Whatever I've been seeing when I leave my body is real. "I'm not sure why I was there."

That's a lie. I think I was there because I wanted to see Henry.

Marcus is looking at me knowingly, as if he can see what I'm not saying. "Aro will work with you on that, I'm sure. As for running … being frightened …" He looks away, into the distance. "You have good sense. Many are afraid of us. You don't need to be, however."

"I don't?"

"At least … " He pauses, "not in the usual way."

Something occurs to me, then. "How did you find me, if you can't see where I am? And why did you come?" I stop myself. "That sounded rude. I'm sorry."

Marcus settles down on a fallen log opposite from where I stand, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "First of all, that protection of yours isn't soundproof. As a vampire, you're quieter, but I could hear you." He smiles slightly. "You were pleased with your new abilities."

I can't help but grin back at him. I like Marcus, how he's not trying to embarrass me by going into detail.

He continues, "More importantly, I have a gift that can help me find people. Among other things. It's been a while since I used it that way, but you were particularly easy to find."

"You're a tracker?" I shudder. The memories of James are fuzzy, but I can recall how he loved to find people.

"No. I don't think a tracker could find you, although I'm sure Aro will want to test that." I shift at the name, and Marcus frowns slightly. He says, "I can see bonds, the relationships between people. The visual takes the form of ropes, connecting one being to another." His eyes become unfocused, as if he is looking at something I can't see. "As for the why me instead of Demetri … well, I could find you easily, that's one. The other is that Aro asked me to come."

That name … where is he? Absently, I rub my throat. "Why?" _Why didn't he come himself?_

Marcus looks at me once again with that penetrating expression. He seems to choose his words carefully. "I have a lighter touch than he does, with feeding. Aro has strong opinions about our diet. Given your … previous association, he thought it was better I come with you."

I frown at him, confused, and Marcus changes the subject abruptly. "Do you feel the thirst?"

I swallow. "Yes." I looked up at him. "I … yes. I feel it." hesitate. I like Marcus. I didn't want to offend him.

"You don't want to be a killer," he says quietly. His expression softens. "And you don't want to hurt the feelings of a three thousand year old vampire."

I close my eyes. "No." I wince. "Are you angry?" There's something about this vampire that seems almost fatherly. I don't want to disappoint him.

"What a treasure you are, Isabella. So naive, so very human. Astonishing you should be bonded to him, really." Seeing my confused expression, Marcus shakes his head. "No, child, you can eat what you wish, among us. Although … " He folds his hands. "I confess I am curious to hear your reasoning."

I am thirsty, but it's not overwhelming. Not yet. I swallow against the burning. It's full night out now, and the two of us are alone in the darkness. The moonlight seems to absorb itself into his translucent white skin. "I just … I don't feel I have the right."

Marcus cocks his head at me. "Did you eat meat as a human, or were you one of those who consume only plants? Not that I have anything against such. Aro informs me that their blood tastes delicious."

_Aro._ I like Marcus, but I wish he were here. "I ate meat. But it's not the same thing."

"Hmm. So it's not killing for food, per se. Do you believe that people have souls, then?"

I nodded. "Yes. I suppose."

"You suppose. I did too, once. But that was a long time ago." He looks pensive. "Perhaps I still do. But I don't think I affect their souls with what we do. They are as they are. Unless you believe people need last rites or a final prayer to attain salvation?"

"I …. I don't know." My human life is hazy, but I know I've never been a particularly religious person.

Marcus looks at me thoughtfully. "Then perhaps the soul you are afraid of affecting is your own?"

He's right, I realize. "Yes. That's it."

He smiles with a distant kind of fondness. "Aro and I used to enjoy these discussions with Carlisle. It seems he's had an effect on you."

I struggle to remember. My memory of Carlisle is there, but slightly blurry. I remember admiring him. Looking up to him.

"We would debate, Carlisle and I, when he was with us. We both came from religious backgrounds, you understand. They called me a saint, once." Marcus opens his hands expressively. "Misguided humans. And of course Carlisle was the son of a clergyman.

"I always asked Carlisle what killing could do to our souls that becoming a vampire would not. He always argued that murder was wrong. I would parse the distinction between killing and murder, as the original commandment was actually murder, you realize, despite the poor translation … and then we would debate the definition of murder." He hums thoughtfully.

I blink, fascinated despite the aching burn in my throat. I rub it absently. "I take it you never agreed."

Marcus regards me with what looks like amusement. "You are correct. There are many arguments, child, but we have all of eternity to discuss them." He stands and offers his hand. "Why don't we take a stroll and see what we find?"

XXX

What I find is farther out in the countryside, a farm filled with goats. By that time, I am nearly insane with thirst and I leap in the midst of a group of them, uncaring what they are or that they don't smell appetizing at all.

They stink, but still, I drain several. Marcus witnesses silently, standing to the side. There's a strange, almost sad expression in his eyes as he watches me. I look up at him after a while. The burn in my throat is lessened, but still painful. They've only whetted my appetite; I am still so very hungry.  
"They taste awful," I complain. "Like dirt and molding grass." Marcus laughs.

"Of course they do." He shrugs. "It's as you wish, _piccola_, but there is something tastier nearby."

I'm beyond interpreting his words, although if I had, perhaps I would have seen the trap in them. I don't, though. Not then. I sniff the air. There's the smell of goat … and something else.

What was that? I smell it again. There's a single-mindedness to my vision now that I've never experienced. I need … Everything is preternaturally sharp around me, and it's almost painful

And then I smell what he likely knew I would all along. Later I understand that this aroma is the reason for Marcus' expression, that knowing look in his eyes.

Abruptly, I know what the scent is, but of course it's too late. The goats covered the smell of the couple inside … and their elderly mother.

It's faint. I can almost resist it.

… Until the wind changes. The smell blows full into my face, up my nose. Oh god I've never smelled anything like that before. The smell of their blood, even through the goats, it's like the smell of waiting paradise. Complex and impossibly rich.

Later, I'd like to say that's all I remember. But course vampires have perfect recall.

I'm inside the farmhouse The liquid sounds of human hearts is all I can hear. There's so much of it, I can hear the sloshing in their veins. There's so _much_ of it …

I'm standing in a dark bedroom. On top of a strugging human. Tearing away obstacles. Blankets, clothing. Flesh.

The _redness_ of it …

And then there is nothing else in my world. Action, reaction, drinking. It's so good, so terribly good. The very idea of stopping is laughable.

There's red everywhere. Dark, bright, gushing, seeping. Flowing.

Why would I halt something so utterly pleasurable?

I am filled. I am transformed.

I am covered in red.

XXX

Marcus is met by Jane, and I know he says some things to me before he leaves, but I don't know what they are. I feel … strange. I don't know how to respond to this. To my actions. Am I guilty? I should be. Shouldn't I?

Marcus has planted seeds of doubt in my mind and it's easier not to feel like that. But I know what is right. Don't I?

I can't deny I enjoyed it, can I?

I understand why Edward denied me now. To unleash this upon the world …

It's the highest of highs, this existence, until you realize how you gain pleasure. And it was oh so pleasurable.

I see it all now. I could fall into a black pit of self-loathing, so easily. I could be like Edward.

I don't want to be like him.

I rock back and forth slightly. I need Henry. But where is he?

"Aro has to run the trial," Jane says, as if she hears my thoughts. Did I say that out loud? She sits down next to me, gingerly, in a chair not covered in gore. "You should use their shower now, Isabella." Her voice is gentle. "We'll have to dispose of them and burn this place to destroy the evidence." She waves her fingers in a small, dismissive gesture. No big deal. "Don't worry, I'll handle it."

I nod dumbly. I don't know how to feel. "Jane?"

"You're feeling guilty? Or you don't know how to feel, and that's the problem?" Her smile is small, her eyes knowing.

I grimace. "Yes."

"We all go through that, for a while." Jane purses her lips together in thought. "Well, I didn't, but my first meal was made up of people who had set me on fire, so that hardly counts."

I blink at her, lost for words.

"Don't worry, Isabella," she says. "It was a very long time ago." She sighs. "People are mostly small-minded, illogical, and prone to harmful superstition. Mostly, it's no great loss when one goes here or there. I've never felt badly about killing them."

I frown. "I was human _hours_ ago. They're not all like that."

Jane gives me a half-shrug. "Perhaps. But they mostly are, no? They don't have time to be anything else. And let's face it, there are what, seven billion of them now? Your Cullens hunt the endangered animals when they should be disposing of the real threat." She sniffs. "Another example of superstition over science, if you ask me."

I stare into space and blink, feeling completely overwhelmed. The blood has dried on my skin and I am disgusting. "They're not my Cullens." _Not anymore. _My mind mocks me.

Jane's voice softens. She reaches out with her hand and rests it on my shoulder. Her voice is quiet. "It's nice to touch someone without having them flinch, Isabella," she says quietly.

I look at her, not sure what to say. Jane laughs, a chorus of tiny bells. "You're lovely," she says musingly. With two manicured fingers, she pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Even with red eyes, covered in human juice, your innocence is astonishing. I can see why he—" she pauses, "feels as he does."

I look around. Down at my bare feet, sticky in a pool of blood. The body of the younger farm woman is slumped against the near wall where she tried to flee and failed. Her eyes stare blankly into space.

"Innocent is the furthest thing from how I feel."

Jane sighs. "You'll think more clearly outside."

I look up at her. Finally, I nod. What choice do I have? It's done. Jane's voice turns brisk.

"Good. Now we should get moving. Master will want you back and I don't wish to displease him." She smiles. "Now, I know I am petite, Isabella, but I've been a vampire a long time. Can we agree that I will act as an older sister for you, at least for now?"

At that, I smile back at her tentatively, despite myself. I always wanted a sister. And this small, take-charge vampire is very reassuring.

"Okay," I agree, and Jane grins in pleasure.

"Good. It's settled then."

Before I know it, I'm naked, under a shower, and scrubbing off the dried blood. When I get out, my dress has been hand washed and is hanging for me. It's damp, but I don't feel uncomfortable. I suppose it will dry in the cool night air.

I won't catch a cold, I suppose.

Jane and I are met outside by her brother. He's polite, but all business. I watch as they set a fire and the three of us head home, the sounds of sirens in the distance.

XXX

**A/N: I feel like I should apologize for how long this one took? I was writing the last chapter and it got a little out of control (10k words) , so I split it into two parts. This is the first. No promises, but the second shouldn't take nearly as long as this one did. Unless I suddenly decide to rewrite it in a totally different POV for no particular reason. Like always.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed … I really enjoy reading them!**


	18. A Joining of Vampires

A/N at end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, am not making money from this.

XXXXX

Another guard member meets us outside an entrance. He's darker than the others, and his sharp red eyes look frustrated as they rove over me.

"Demetri," Jane says curtly. She looks vaguely put out. "The masters sent you?"

"Yes, and it's a lost cause." He says, and now his irritation is more than evident. "I assume they wanted to confirm it."

Jane gives him an unsympathetic smile. "Poor bloodhound. Perhaps they should invest in kibble and kennels, after all."

Demetri only raises an eyebrow at her words. "Irritated that your powers don't work either, Jane? I suppose you'll have to rely on your charm."

"That is—" Jane begins.

Wait," Demetri snaps his fingers, cutting her off. "I forgot … you don't have any."

"Don't push me, Rover."

"Sweet little Jane. Are those pre-teen hormones bothering you again?" Demetri gives her a leering grin. "Don't fret. It happens to every little girl on her journey to womanhood."

Jane opens her mouth, but this time, Alec cuts her off. "Must we have this foreplay every time?" Jane and Demetri both scoff, and Alec sighs in a long-suffering way. "Is there an actual reason you're here, Demetri?"

"Master Aro wants Isabella in her quarters until …" he gives the twins a significant look, "… his business is concluded."

Jane nods and grabs my arm, but I resist. Something's not right. "What business?" I ask.

The vampires around me say nothing. "Well?" I ask, to more silence.

_They're keeping something from me. What is it I'm not supposed to know?_

"It's nothing important, Isabella," Jane says in an offhanded voice, and I suppose this is meant to be soothing. It's not. "Master Aro will come see you when once he's finished."

The tugging I've been feeling in my chest tightens painfully at her words, and I feel a ghost of an ache there, one I know too well. It feels like I'm about to lose something—or someone. "Why haven't I seen him yet?" I ask. "He told me …" _He said he wouldn't leave. _

There's a look of dawning comprehension on Jane's face. "Isabella, you don't understand," she begins. "It's not what you—"

But it's too late. I've stopped listening, because I remember when I felt like this before. The last time I was left by a vampire.

_It's happening again. They won't do this to me again. I won't let them._

With a twist, I pull away from Jane's grasp and concentrate hard on being invisible. Unfindable.

And it works. hear Demetri hiss, Jane bark a command. It doesn't matter.

I take off.

I don't know where I'm going. I just know I want, _need_ to find someone. For lack of a better theory, I concentrate on the tugging sensation in my chest. Marcus said that bonds are like ropes, tying us together. Perhaps this tugging I feel is one of those.

The only person I care about right now is Henry. He told me he wouldn't leave me, and I plan to take him up on his promise. But if he doesn't want me, I swear to myself that I won't beg him to stay. I won't be pathetic. Not this time.

My chest hurts at the idea he might not want me, but I steel myself. I will find him, and I will find out for certain. Whichever it is.

I close my eyes, feeling the pull like a magnetic force. Slowly, then more quickly, I begin to glide in the direction I'm being drawn.

Aro Volturi, my Henry, is about to see me—whether he wants to, or not.

XXX

I don't run once I decide where I'm going. If Marcus decides to find me, he'll do so whether or not I go quickly, and it seems like he's the only one who can. Instead, I wander through empty stone hallways, drafty corridors lined with what look like priceless paintings and sculptures. It's amazing to me that Aro lives here. I'd gotten so used to him in my world, surrounded by modern things, that the evidence of his age, his history, is startling.

I understand now how he could pose as an art collector—he obviously is one.

It does make me think, though. Marcus said he was three thousand years old. He's Aro's brother … It begs the question, what could a vampire so ancient possibly want with me? It defies comprehension.

Does he feel the same pull that I do? Is that why?

I remember how he acted toward me. Was it all just charm? He was so affectionate, so reassuring. Why would he pretend? As my bare feet pad down the stone hallways, I sigh, knowing I won't find any answers until I find Aro.

I pass a reception desk manned by a young, beautiful woman dressed in even less than I. My gown, while comfortable and wonderfully flattering, is not precisely modest. Surely she's cold? I wonder if the Volturi dress her that way, or if she does it herself.

Whichever it is, I am glad she does not see me. I hover for a moment as she picks up a telephone, begins talking. I hear my name.

I rub at my chest, against the tug I feel. It pushed itself immediately into my awareness once I stopped moving. It's leading me beyond the double doors, wants me to go there _now_, and I'm a little wary. I close my eyes and focus on it. It's almost throbbing, and I realize that it's grown steadily stronger since I awoke to my second life. Is this something all vampires experience?

I have so many questions and so few answers. I can feel frustration rising, and I have to shove it down.

The rest of the receptionist's conversation tells me nothing—because I don't speak Italian. The vampire transformation may do many things; imparting new languages isn't one of them. If I stay, I'll have to learn.

_**If**__ I stay._

If I leave, what would I do? The idea makes my chest hurt and panic rise, a sickening sensation. The tugging grows stronger, almost as if in reaction to the painful thought.

I eye the double doors, and sigh, because I have to enter. I don't know how I know, but he's in there. And even if he isn't, the pulling I feel cannot be denied.

_Put on your big girl panties, Swan, _I think. _They're just doors and you are a vampire._

I do. They open easily and I slip inside before anyone can notice, but it turns out I needn't have bothered. I have entered an enormous chamber. It is round, cavernous, made almost entirely out of marble. Far above is a dome, the top of which is filled with small windows that display the night sky. Columns are carved along the walls at regular, symmetrical intervals.

I am rooted in awe, floored at the power and wealth on display in this space. It's astonishing.

It's also filled to capacity with vampires.

I take a deep breath, smelling the overwhelming, sickly-sweet scent of a large group of vampires. I can tell from how no one is looking, that I'm still invisible, and I am deeply grateful for that fact. The presence of so many undead makes me jittery. I have to fight off the urge to crouch in a corner and hiss.

_They don't know I'm here_, I remind myself firmly. I am _safe._

I find an empty spot along the wall where no one is likely to notice the space that I—and my bubble—are taking. I don't know if it will shrink to fit, but I do know that now isn't the time I want to experiment.

A human memory comes to me. The painting. I remember it now, so clearly that it almost seems unaffected by the haze with which I see my other human memories. The riot of color, over which, on a balcony, stood the Volturi. Carlisle had that picture. And in the middle … Aro.

Seeing them—seeing _him_—now, I wonder how I could have missed it.

_They are the closest thing we have to a royal family._

_The Volturi are the very essence of our kind. They are the substance of your nightmares, the dread behind your instincts._

I suppose it was inconceivable that such an ancient vampire would ever visit me in rainy Forks. Why would he? And he used a different name.

Henry told me that he wanted me to meet him without knowing who he was first. I look around, and I understand why. He's the leader of this powerful, wealthy vampire clan.

_And what am I? _

When I was human, I would have answered that question immediately. I thought I was nothing, weak and boring. A mere human.

Now I am no longer weak, and I'm definitely no longer human. Aside from those facts, I cannot say. But I do know I won't underestimate myself. Not in this new life. Not any longer.

Even if I still don't understand this, not at all.

I look around, taking in the crowded scene. There's tension here, among the exquisite faces. They're all looking toward the center, expectant about something.

Without a conscious decision on my part, my feet start moving me forward in an almost direct path toward Aro. Then, I remember Marcus. I hesitate. If he sees me, will he stop me? Will he send me away?

Would Aro? The thought makes me shudder. The urge to get closer to him is almost physical. I have to find a way. I sway, deliberating. Then I have an idea, and I glide over to the side where Caius sits. If I approach away from Marcus, through the crowd, then, perhaps my bond won't be as visible?

Surely all of these vampires have bonds of their own. I hope.

I have to try.

Weaving my way through the small clusters of vampires is simple; I am so graceful now. As I pass through, I can't help but wonder who they all are. One vampire in particular looks strangely familiar to me, and as I pass he frowns like he senses something. I watch as a dark-haired female, clearly his mate, tugs on his arm, distracting him.

"It'll be over soon, Eleazar," she says.

A striking blonde vampire near the couple sighs. "I don't even know why we're here," she says with a small, exasperated huff. "We never even met the girl."

"It's to ensure we don't cause a problem after, Tanya." The brunette's voice is irritated.

Eleazar nods in agreement. "He'll likely read us after sentencing to see if we're likely to cause problems."

"Covering themselves. That's not a good sign for Carlisle, then."

"No," Eleazar says His voice is emotionless.

_Carlisle. Sentencing._ Abruptly, I understand what this is. What Carlisle has to do with it. Why they didn't want me here. The Cullens are being sentenced by the Volturi.

And, like humans used to watch a hanging, he crowd is here to see justice done.

My chest aches, a deep strange feeling. I rub it with one hand. I'm so _confused_ … maybe if I reach Henry this will all become clear. He's always so comforting …

I work my way forward, keeping in mind what Marcus said about my little bubble not being soundproof. I slip behind a huge vampire standing next to Demetri. The tracker doesn't appear happy at all,. I can't blame him. I must be frustrating for someone like him. I slip past him anyway.

Not far in front of the guard is a very good spot on the steps, and that's where I stop. The raised platform of the chamber is in clear view, and there's no one but the brothers in front of me. I perch there, just two arms-lengths from Caius.

I am close enough to see everything.

Aro is here. I place my hand on my chest. There's no question of where my bond is leading now.

If he feels the same, though, I would never know it. Aro is standing in the middle of the raised platform and he looks utterly poised. He's wearing a long black robe over his normal suit, and the monochrome of it sets off his striking features, highlights his expressive face. I want to go to him. Touch him.

I don't, of course. I'm affected, not stupid.

I watch him intently, though. In my now-perfect peripheral vision, I see Jane approach. It's a sight to see. The crowds cringe away, giving her a wide berth as the tiny vampire enters. It's as if they're afraid to get too close, and I remember what she said to me. How it was nice to touch someone who didn't flinch away.

_What is it like, to live your life like that?_

If it bothers Jane, how the crowd behaves, the dirty looks she's getting, you would never know. She acts as if they're beneath her, and it's utterly convincing. Her demeanor is cold, haughty; her chin is raised and she walks with a bit of a swagger.

I can't help but admire her.

As Jane nears the thrones, she pushes back her hood with one careless hand. Unaffected.

"Masters." She bows her head.

"Jane, dearest." Aro's voice is low, a soothing caress, and his eyes are amused as he takes Jane's hand. I'm surprised to feel … jealousy?

_There is no end to my ridiculousness, it seems. _I shove the thought away.

After a moment, his face goes utterly blank.

"Thank you dear one," he says finally. "Take your place for now, if you will."

Jane gives him a small smile with her angel's face and moves to stand behind the thrones on the side opposite me. Her scarlet, alert eyes scan the crowd.

I sway on my feet. Forward, toward Aro. Backward. Being this close to him is having a strange effect on me. It's like I'm holding one high-voltage line and being pulled toward another.

Disturbed. Turbulent. I want to so badly to _talk _to him. I can't. The result is making me lose my mind.

_Grow up, Bella._I force myself to remain in place, remain silent. Stop my swaying.

Then Aro is speaking, but not to me. I close my eyes, feeling how the timbre of his speech goes through me. All I can hear are the utterly seductive tones, the smooth resonance of his words. He wields his voice like a veteran actor. His audience, including me, is captivated.

I can't help but feel he's astonishing.

I want him. I need him to be mine. My hands clench into claws. I relax them again with a steely force of will. This is in_sane_. I care about this vampire, yes, but where is all of this emotion coming from? It makes no sense. _None._

_Back off your crazy, Bella_. _What is wrong with you? _

I don't know what's happened to me. Seeing this vampire … it's a deep kind of craving I'm feeling.

I hate it. I _need_ it. I grit my teeth against the feelings assaulting me.

To my frustration, Aro doesn't seem to be bothered by any of this. I watch him closely, though, and finally I do see something. As he is speaking, for just a moment, barely a second, he rubs his chest.

_He feels it too, _my mind insists.

_It means nothing. He needed to scratch._

_Vampires don't get itches, Bella._

With his next words, I snap out of my confused haze. "We have deliberated," he says carefully, "and have decided to give the sentences of your … _family _… separately, Carlisle." He stares down at the bottom of the steps, before the thrones, where a group of vampires are surrounded by guards in Volturi uniform.

_The Cullens._

It takes me a moment to place them all, to reconstruct their names from my human memories, build upon my vague recollections. Once I do, it's there, it's _all _there. I remember everything.

Jasper, and Carlisle, the eldest,look resigned. Alice is staring into space with a pained look on her face. Edward, unsurprisingly, looks defiant. I remember that about him: he always called me stubborn, but it was because I was going up against an equally determined opposition.

Did we ever agree about anything important? I let the question go. Demetri and the large guard are behind me, and I can hear them talking in very low voices. Demetri says, "He is so purple smoke, Felix."

"Don't be too sure," the other guard—presumably Felix—says. "He'd be an asset." There's a cracking sound that I realize belatedly is his knuckles. "Once we got rid of that prissy attitude, of course."

I listen to the guards with part of my brain while I look at the Cullens. I know I don't like their suffering. It's no wonder Aro didn't want me here. I don't feel sorry for the Cullens, precisely; they left me with not a word as though I meant nothing. Still, they were important to me once. Like family.

I look away as I am pulled to see Aro again. My connection with the Cullens seems like a very long time ago. And it was, I realize. A lifetime.

Aro is looking at the Cullens now, and his expression is even colder and more distant than Jane's. He looks utterly unknowable. Like Hades.

How could someone like me ever be with someone like him?

But then again … I consider the myth. How different was Persephone? There must be a reason he brought me here, surely? I remember how he cradled me in his lap, the sorrowful look on his face.

No, I decide, he has to feel something. Despite my confusion, I feel my lips curve upward as my human memory of him returns. Our walks to collect art, the way he would stroke my hand in the car. How little I knew, back then. He really is king of the underworld.

And like all charismatic, dark creatures, he is compelling. I take an involuntary step closer to him. He's so _close_ …

I watch as Emmett and Rosalie are called, step forward. Given their minimal involvement with me, they are given a choice of serving on the guard or wandering free. They are not to join nor create any coven, and there are explicit death threats if they breathe wrong. It's a final warning. They're told to save their answer to the end. Both look ridiculously relieved.

Demetri hums behind me. "I don't suppose she'd agree to help Heidi, would she?"

Felix laughs. "She'd say yes, and bring back a herd of deer."

Caius doesn't seem happy about the sentence, although it seems reasonable to me. Rosalie never liked me, I remember. Why should she be held responsible? But he stares at her and at Emmett as if he's thinking of making vampire hat stands. Marcus is … I blink. He's looking at me.

Oh no. He warned me not to spy on them. I try and control my panic. Does he see? What is he going to do? I twist my hands nervously and search his expression for a clue. I just wanted to get closer …

Did he just _smirk_ at me?

The expression is gone as quickly as it came, and Marcus has his hands folded in his lap, gazing placidly in the general direction of the Cullens.

_I must have imagined it. _

Carlisle and Esme are the next to approach the thrones. Esme is given the same option as the others; despite being Carlisle's mate, she isn't the coven leader.

Behind me, I hear Felix whisper, "Two words. Carlisle. Smoke."

Demetri says. "I'm not so sure."

The crowd falls silent, and Carlisle, the leader of the Cullen coven, waits. His head is bowed. He looks as if even he thinks he's going to die. My throat tightens.

_This is not my fault. I wanted to be one of them, and Edward refused me. _I remind myself.

Aro approaches Carlisle, looking down at his former friend. I watch, fascinated, as he places a long-fingered hand on Carlisle's neck. Aro's fingers move over the nape slowly, stroking Carlisle's skin in an almost affectionate way, like one would a pet. The moment stretches out.

The vampires around me tense. It's utterly still.

Then Aro steps away.

"Carlisle Cullen," he says, in a musing, solemn voice, "you are to be dismembered for a period to be chosen at our discretion, stored inside a box of which I will have custody, after such time you will be reassembled. Once you are whole, you will be subject to our conditions. First, you are neither to create nor to be a part of any coven whatsoever from this point forward. Do you understand the sentence thus far?"

Carlisle's face is utterly blank, and his eyes are black. He looks like he's in shock. "I do," he manages.

"Very well. After your reassembly, you are to remain in Volterra, where your exact role will be determined by us. You will no longer serve as a medical doctor for humans, except as directed by us. You will no longer _attempt_ to integrate with humanity in any way. Fu**r**ther infraction will result in an immediate end to your existence." Aro pauses. "As an alternative to this sentence, you may choose death. Are these terms understood, Carlisle?"

Esme covers her mouth and stares. Carlisle bows his head. "They are."

Behind me, Felix groans. "I can't believe it."

"What?"

"We're stuck with the veggies _forever_ now. You know they'll stay with him."

Demetri sighs. "Maybe they'll change their diet?"

"With Doctor Delightful around to lecture them?"

"Point … He is being torn, though."

"Please. They love Carlisle. I give it a day."

I sigh in relief. The guard doesn't seem to think Carlisle got a severe sentence, although being dismembered seems awful. But if they think it's light, I believe them.

As I'm considering this, the crowd, which had been buzzing along with the guard behind me, quiets once more.

"Now we have Alice and Jasper." Aro says He looks so pleased now that even I feel a surge of dread. "Alice," he savors her name, draws it out slowly. "Dearest Alice. You will serve on our _personal_ guard or face immediate death. Jasper, given your previous … activities … involving newborn vampire, of which we were well aware, you will also serve on the guard, or you may also choose death with your mate. Do you, Alice and Jasper, understand these terms?"

"We do," they say quietly, together.

"They'll choose the guard."

"Yeah, I'm glad. want to take down Whitlock."

Demetri snorts. "I have money that you won't. Have you seen his bite marks?"

"All from newborns."

"Whatever you say, Felix."

I look over at Alice. She's staring at Edward, her forehead furrowed, as if she's trying to convince him of something with her thoughts. He shakes his head, looks away, and she sighs. Jasper takes her arm gently, pulls her to one side.

Whatever she was trying to suggest to him, it's too late now. Aro's smile turns razor-sharp, glacial. It matches Caius' expression perfectly. The crowd goes utterly still.

"Which leaves only our young mind reader," Aro says in the quiet. "Step forward, Edward."

I stare at Edward as he glides to stand before his family. I don't remember why I found him so utterly absorbing. He's handsome, of course, and even more so than many vampires. His looks are classical, flawless like a statue. It's a kind of perfection that leaves me cold.

I don't want him anymore.

Edward doesn't look repentant at all. Aro shakes his head as if in sadness, but he doesn't look sad. Not at all.

"You are the cause of all of this, aren't you, young Edward? And you did it with full knowledge of your actions." Aro steeples his fingers. "You knowingly manipulated your coven to obey your wishes, knowing how your actions placed them in jeapordy."

"They were aware of the risk," Edward says tightly. "It was their choice. We decided as a coven to leave Bella to her human life."

"Ah," Aro says. "That does bring up an interesting point. You left her for her safety, am I correct?"

"She _was _safe, until your coven came along."

"Was she indeed?" Aro says musingly. "Would you like to know why we created the law of secrecy, Edward? I and my brothers? Why humans are not to be left with the knowledge of our kind?" His expression is a strange combination of amusement and … sorrow? I can't read it. "Or perhaps you thought we just got bored, all those hundreds of years ago."

Edward is silent.

"It because. Edward, it drives them insane. Very few humans can handle the knowledge of us, of _vampires_, without becoming … unhinged. Perhaps it is the certainty of their death, and desperation to avoid it. Perhaps they just cannot deal with their idea they might have imagined it. But our history has shown us, time after time, that the human mind, does not deal well with keeping our secret." He purses his lips. "They cannot seem to keep it to themselves and retain their sanity. And as you can imagine, the insane themselves are not the greatest at silence."

"Bella would never have told."

"No, as remiss as you were, she was quite a good little secret keeper for you. In that you were correct. But she was well on her way to insanity when we found her, dear Edward, did you know?" Aro pauses to let his words sink in. "Tell me, what do you think would have happened, once they placed her in the care of a psychiatrist and pumped her full of drugs?"

"They would never have believed her." Edward says, and I cringe.

"Your concern for your former human is touching," Aro says. "Truly." Belying his almost casual, mocking words, his eyes are furious. "But I suppose you will never be able to test that theory will you? And it is no one's fault but your own." Aro pauses. "It is my judgment that the fault for this exposure, dear Edward, lies almost completely … with you." He continues inexorably. "As a mind reader, you were uniquely able to blackmail your coven with their innermost demons, weren't you? To use those secret thoughts you hear every day, to twist them against your dearest as weapons to get your own way."

Edward says nothing.

There is a short silence. Slowly, thoughtfully, Aro says, "However … That said …. Despite your mistakes, you have provided this coven with a unique opportunity—"

Edward cuts Aro off, and Esme and Alice close their eyes and drop their heads. It's as if he _wants _ to die. Perhaps he does. "If by _opportunity,_" he says scathingly,_ "_you mean the chance to damn a young girl's soul and pervert her mind—"There's a blur before me, and Edward stops abruptly, but not because he thinks better of his words.

Caius is holding Edward in the air by his throat, His feet are dangling.

"_Merda_," Felix mutters. "That's my job."

"I don't think Master Caius likes Edward very much," Demetri says dryly.

"I thought of death for you, Edward," Aro says, as if he were never interrupted. If he notices that his brother is holding Edward in a choke hold, or that there are small cracking sounds coming from Edward's neck, he gives no sign. He gives a small half-laugh and continues, "I must admit, it's been a while since a vampire has irritated me quite so thoroughly as you. And I think my brother agrees with me, to be honest." He pauses. "Because of this, my brother Caius and I decided to get a little more … creative … with your punishment than usual."

The crowd erupts into hisses and murmurs. "Oh fuck, that's not good," Felix whispers, and I'm inclined to agree with him. The word _creative_ in this context sounds wrong.

"Especially when it involves Master Caius," Demetri mutters.

Aro raises a hand for silence, then he glides up and strokes Edward's hair patronizingly, much as one would a favorite pet. He speaks slowly, in a low, intimate tone, although of course everyone can hear. "You, Edward," he says calmly, "are to be dismembered for two hundred years. During that time, your parts will be given over to my brother Caius' … gentle care. He has some," Aro smiles warmly, "uses for such that you shall discover in time. Your head will be placed in a box, to be used as I see fit during this period." There's a long moment of silence, during which Aro stares into Edward's eyes. Abruptly, Edward begins thrashing, and Aro's smile widens.

" Upon your reassembly," he continues, as though there were no interruption, "you will be … evaluated. If we find you insane, or likely to pose a threat of any kind, my brothers and I will destroy you. If you are found sane and compliant, you will be given a choice between the guard and death."

"Genius," Demetri whispers, awed. "Can you imagine the shit he's going to make the head watch?"

"Worse than death," Felix agrees. "Have you seen Caius' lab? He'll be insane in a week."

In front of the dais, Caius pulls Edward closer. His mouth is touching Edward's ear as he speaks in a grotesque imitation of intimacy. "I may just borrow your head from time to time myself, _piccolo_."

I shudder, and I'm so riveted, so utterly absorbed in the drama before me, that I don't notice my shield is down.

I don't notice that I am visible.

Not until I hear Felix and Demetri hiss, do I register the gasp of the crowd, notice what has happened. Once I do, I'm frozen. I have no idea what to do. It's too late to flee. Before me, I see the brothers and Edward turn as one to stare at me.

_Oh damn. This is so not good._ I have appeared from nowhere, on the steps before the Volturi thrones. I bite my lip.

At least Aro is looking at me now. His eyes are intense, and his grin is wide. So wide, and so full of teeth, it's more than a little frightening. I sway on my feet, wondering if I did the right thing, coming here. It feels so good to be close, and yet …

Now that the full force of his gaze is upon me, it's a little frightening.

This vampire, I realize, isn't Henry. He's something else. Something a more dangerous and even more compelling. In a crowd of hunters, he's a higher order of predator.

I'm terrified, and yet, drawn in. I lick my lips, take a half-step forward. Stop.

He stares at me for a long moment with that wide, delighted smile. "_Magnifico_," he murmurs. It's almost a whisper. His eyes are piercing as they lock with mine.

And then our moment is interrupted. I hiss involuntarily in irritation.

"Bella," Edward says. His voice is a harsh and low, compressed. He's still being held by Caius. "Bella," he repeats, louder. I hear a cracking sound.

I can't tear my gaze away from Aro. He has the strangest expression on his face. It looks … conflicted? "Not now, Edward," I say absently.

I take a step forward, toward the thrones. Toward Aro. He half-raises his arm, to call off the guard, but I don't look back.

And then he's there before me. _Touching _me as I want so badly. His hand cradles my face, his thumb strokes my cheekbone. The electricity I've been feeling is magnified exponentially now that I'm actually in contact with him. I lean into his hand, wanting more. All other vampires have ceased to exist.

His voice is very quiet. It's like he can see only me. "You have exceeded my most fevered expectations, Isabella," he says, drawing out my name. Savoring it. His large, cool hand slips under my chin tip my face up to his. "You are exquisite. Truly, immortality suits you."

He smiles at me, and suddenly I realize, his smile, it's predatory.

_Did I make a mistake? _ I stumble back, breaking his hold, and in a sudden panic, I pull up my bubble.

But, as if I've done nothing, Aro is still looking at me. Into my eyes. It's like he knows just where I am. I take another step back. And he glides toward me. I brace myself to flee. Hesitate.

I feel so confused. I don't want to leave this place. To be anywhere else feels wrong. But I cannot ignore my fear.

Aro takes a slow step closer. "Beautiful, terrified Bella," he croons. "Wait, dear one." In a very quiet voice, he says, "Will you let me in, Isabella?" He tilts his head. "Can you do me the honor?"

I stare at him. Frozen, rubbing my chest nervously. I keep my shield up. Something inside me tells me that I have no choice. Not really. There's a bond here between us, and it doesn't even matter now what his intentions are, how frightening he is. Despite all of these things, he's my endpoint.

Am I his? I think I know the answer, but I want to be sure.

I concentrate on my bubble, step forward. Aro stands absolutely still with an intent look on his face.

"Yes," he whispers. "That's it."

I focus harder. I know now, he's watching me, waiting. He's been waiting on me for a very long time.

Another step, and I can feel my shield pressing against him. I bite my lip, concentrating, and instead of bending, it … _slips_, slowly, bit by bit, around Aro's form.

There's a gasp around us, the sound of the crowd buzzing in shock, and Marcus rises from his throne. Calls off the guard again.

Inside my bubble, now, we're alone. There's a pearlescent sheen surrounding us like a sheer curtain, separating Aro and I from what is passing beyond. I stare at Aro nervously as he looks at me, then outside. "You did it, Isabella," he murmurs. His eyes are wide and he's grinning with what looks like genuine happiness. "You're astonishing." His grin fades into a smile I recognize. It's Henry's smile. I relax. "I knew you could," he says.

"I … " I swallow. "I missed you." I can feel the sting in my eyes now, the tears I cannot shed, and I'm ashamed of my weakness.

"Shh, little one," Aro says. "shh." He looks at me quizzically. "Do you remember before your change, Isabella, the thing I asked you?"

I nod, a little unsteadily. "If I trusted you."

"Yes," he murmurs. "We're under your shield now, my dear. Will you?" He holds up his hand significantly.

I know what he wants, but I don't know what to say. Instead, I nod.

Aro reaches over slowly and wraps his cool fingers around my bare upper arm. Tugs me closer. With an air of inevitability then, he closes his eyes, bows his head.

I watch him, the expressions that cross his face. Surprise, sadness. Pleasure. He's so beautiful, but not in a perfect way, I decide. Aro is attractive, but his beauty comes from somewhere else, from something less easy to define.

I close my eyes with him then, savor the touch of his fingers, his firm grip against my skin. I want him to know me.

_This may be the most foolish thing I've ever done_, I think.

_Or the most brilliant._

My defenses are gone. I watch as Aro Volturi reads my life, my mind, like a book.

Finally, Aro looks up at me, and I tense. His eyes are knowing now, but somehow, still wondering. "You were drawn here?" He asks in a strange, intent voice.

"I had to come," I tell him. "I had to see you."

"Yes, I can see that," he says. His hand is still on my arm, and slowly he removes. Absurdly, I feel the loss. Aro sighs almost shakily and looks down into my eyes. "Sweet Isabella," he says, "so quick to hand over your soul to monsters. So wonderfully accepting." His voice is soft, musing. "And now you are one of us. Here with the biggest monster of all." He sighs. "Will you trust me with your soul, sweet Bella?"

What choice do I have? He has seen it all. Witnessed my need.

I know I am damned.

"Yes," I whisper. "You have it already."

Aro, my Henry, looks outside again, toward the crowd. Toward Felix and Demetri who are blocking us. Finally, he looks back at me. With the tips of his fingers, he strokes my hand, my arm, my face, creating small, shocking currents of electricity. "We don't have much time, Isabella," he says. "I'll need to end this soon." He looks a little regretful. "I hoped our first talk would be more private. There is so much I wish to tell you but for now … I must give these vampires a show." He looks down at me with a strange expression. "They know you were the Cullen's …"

"Pet," I say softly.

He grimaces, but nods. "I cannot show weakness, do you understand?"

"Yes." I do. I think.

"Good. Can you … "he hesitates, "play this game with me, Isabella?"

I will. "I missed you," I whisper.

Aro gives me a small, impossibly sweet smile. One of his hands brushes my cheek again. "You have me now," he says quietly. "And when this is over, I will show you what that means. But for now … Remember what I said, Isabella, and forgive me."

I don't have a chance to agree again. Quicker than I could have believed possible, Aro grabs me by the back of my throat, and drags me flush against him. _Oh god. _My shield trembles, drops, and I know, every one of the vampires in this chamber can see me now.

Aro pulls me even closer, toward him and to the side, so my back is facing the assembled vampires. I'm embarrassingly, acutely aware that I'm not wearing anything underneath the silk dress. I'm pressed against Aro's cool stone body, surrounded by his scent. Despite my newborn vampire strength I feel utterly helpless.

His hand is splayed in my hair, holding me. I'm on the balls of my feet, and his mouth is against the shell of my ear. "Remember," he breathes. I can only shudder. The electricity between us is intense. I'm frightened, confused, shamefully aroused.

"It seems the Cullen's human has made an appearance," Caius says in the hushed silence. I hear the sounds of thrashing at his words. Edward. "She has good timing." His voice is low and mocking.

Aro's nose grazes the column of my exposed, stretched throat, breathing me in. He pushes me then, bends over me so I am stretched further backward, held by one of his arms. My hair spills behind me, toward the steps before the thrones. I stare up at him, not blinking.

"She is … lovely," Aro says, and chuckles darkly. "A truly magnificent vampire. Don't you agree, Edward?" I swallow against that sound, that dark laughter. All I can feel is his hands, his legs pressed against mine. Behind me, I hear the sounds of fighting, snarling, inarticulate yelling. I don't break my eye contact with Aro.

"Do you see what your actions have wrought, Edward Cullen? Aro asks. "Your precious, innocent Bella is now …" With a crimson tongue, taking his time, Aro licks the hollow at the base of my jaw where it meets my throat. I shudder against him, and Aro grins wickedly. "… very much … _mine_."

And then, with a lightening quick strike, he bites me. I scream, and my hands fist in his robe and the lapels on his suit for purchase. What is he doing? I am still bent backward, can do nothing. Oh god it _hurts_.

Slowly, Aro releases my flesh and licks the mark he's just made just over the scar from my change. There's a complete silence in the chamber, just for a moment, and then pandemonium. Behind me, I hear the sounds of another struggle and then the screeching of metal tearing that means vampires are being pulled apart.

Carlisle. Edward.

I don't try and look. I know what's happening, but I'm still in shock. This is the last thing I expected.

Aro pulls me up, his hand still holding the back of my head. I close my eyes.

_Damned, damned, damned. _  
I open my eyes when I hear his voice again. "You will remain with us, here in Volterra, Isabella," he says. His slow smile would be ominous if I didn't want him so very badly. His eyes are utterly black, locked on mine. Those watching will assume things from that smile.

I don't know if the things they are assuming are even false anymore.

I could escape, I know. Once he lets go of me, only Marcus could find me, and even he would give up eventually. I could run to the ends of the Earth, find a way to avoid the Volturi. Forever.

The only problem is, I don't want to.

_Damned._

Aro is watching me intently. He pulls me up against him so I am standing. "I have just the place for you, I think."

I nod. My fate is sealed, and I know, it's with this vampire before me. _Henry. Aro._ I am his, body and soul. I only promise to myself, that he will be mine, as well. Even if it takes all of my eternity.

I relax in his arms, before this audience in Volterra. Our eyes connect, very briefly in what seems very much like a mutual understanding.

I will stay, and wait for my answers. This is where I belong.

XXXXX

A/N: That's all, people. This was fun to write and **THANK YOU** for reading it! I hope the ending was enough for everyone, and hopefully there isn't too much disappointment about the lack of hearts and flowers. I wanted to keep it kind of true to some version of Aro and the Volturi. Hopefully I did that.

I do know that one of the quotes I used from New Moon was said by Alice to Jacob _**after**_ she comes back to Bella, and well after this story went AU. I just think it's a really cool quote, so I cheated. *shrug*

If you have read this whole thing, please do review now that it's all over. Short is fine, but it would be great to hear from those of you who made it to the end. :)


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